Who Wouldn't Want To Be Me?
by Penguins-girl
Summary: Cameron Bates has always wanted to be in the NHL, the only problem? She's a girl. Not that any of her teammates know that. So what happens when her teammate Jordan Staal start to mean more to her than just being on her line?
1. Chapter 1

_please let me know what you think!  
><em>

"FASTER! SKATE HARDER! WHAT ARE YOU, A BUNCH OF GIRLS?" I grimaced and dug in my skates as the coach yelled at every single player on the ice. We knew try-outs were going to be a bitch, but nobody had expected it to be this bad. Our coach was like Satan in a short, overweight little man's body; complete with the whole purple in the face thing from yelling so much in the past two and a half hours.

"Fuck, how many damn lines is he gonna make us skate?" Josh grumbled, to which I shrugged.

"No idea," he nodded, turning and heading back. My knee was starting to hurt; the hard skating followed by so many sharp turns so repetitively was just killing it, and silently I wished I'd been intelligent enough to wear my knee brace to camp today.

"Bates! Get your ass in gear boy!" I dug in some more, the smirk playing at my lips. I'd hated cutting my hair short two weeks ago, but to play with the boys everybody has to think you're one, and having hair halfway down my back didn't help me out. I lucked out; having the name Cameron and being a whole five foot seven made me passable for a guy, if the coach didn't look too closely. I was small, but I made up for it with being fast, and that had saved me on other teams before.

"Yeah Bates, stop skating like a fucking girl," another guy sneered. Some of I'm sure suspected I was a girl, either that or I was 'gay' because I wouldn't change in their locker room and refused to make idiotic comments about one of the female student reporters here doing an article for the local newspaper on the team. I was used to not getting along overly well with my teammates; I mean, if they didn't suspect anything it was usually okay, but if they did life was hell.

"Good! Hit the showers and I'll let you know tomorrow," he said, turning on his heel without a second look to the thirty-one players sweating like mid-July out on the ice.

"Fuck my life," I groaned, feeling my knee protesting as I stepped off the ice and onto it.

"What?"

"Knee. Buggered it when I was playing high school hockey and basketball," I explained, and Josh nodded.

"My little sister did that two years ago; it's never been the same since,"

"Yeah, you're telling me," I agreed, not wanting to get too into detail. It was too easy to slip; better to have people suspect but not really know I wasn't who I was supposed to be than get too close and let it slip myself.

"Anyway, you did really good. That sick backhand shot should seriously get you on the team, you skated circles around all of us out there," he grinned.

"Shut the hell up, I did not,"

"Did too, don't even deny it. I wish I could skate like that," he sighed, making me shake my head.

"Well I wish I was six foot four and two hundred some pounds; I'll trade ya," I offered, to which he laughed.

"Sometimes it sucks ass; you're expected to be the big stupid lug out there. Some of the stuff guys say out there…" he shook his head. He was going to Brown University with a full scholarship; working on his Mechanical Engineering degree, and even with playing NCAA Hockey he had an 89% average. The guy's a genius.

"Yeah, don't worry; I hear the same shit,"

"Yeah, but people expect you to get mad; people expect me to not know what the hell they're talking about like I'm some kind of Neanderthal," he began walking towards the locker room, but I hung back. I didn't want to see every guy who just tried out for the team naked, no thank you.

"What? Aren't you gonna shower?" he asked, wrinkling up his nose.

"Yeah, I will. I think I'm gonna do a couple light laps and stretch out my knee really good first is all," I told him, gingerly stepping back out onto the ice. After two and a half extremely slow laps I grabbed a puck and began doing some stickhandling up and down the ice, and then sat down to try and relieve some of the pain in my knee.

"You're Cameron Bates, right?" the reporter asked as she walked up to me.

"Yeah, that's me," I nodded, making sure to keep my voice even and the slightly lower tone. Thank God for high school drama is all I have to say.

"Would it be all right if I asked you a few questions? I know you probably don't want your routine interrupted but you are one of the more talked about players coming into camp," she said.

"Sure, not a problem; ask away, as long as you don't mind me stretching while you do it," I shrugged, and she got out a little voice recorder and her tiny notepad, obviously having prepared some questions while she watched part of our practice.

"So, are you excited about trying out for Brown's very own Brown Bears?" she asked.

"Of course I am; it's a great hockey program with a lot of opportunity and talent and a great school, I'd love the chance to play here, take classes, and be part of the organization," I answered.

"Was there anything in particular that made you choose Brown?"

"The hockey was a big part of it; I wanted to play hockey somewhere, but I wanted to go to a place where my education would be good too. So it was kind of a balance,"

"So you weren't draft eligible for the NHL, as many players are around your age, but would you make the jump and put an education on the back burner given the chance?" she asked, and I almost laughed.

"Of course I would; I mean, the chance to play in the NHL would be my dream. There would always be the opportunity to take summer courses or go to school after retiring, seeing as you aren't exactly old when you retire from hockey," the reporter chuckled at this, nodding. "So I could still do the things I wanna do, and have more money to do it."

"All right; thank you very much; good luck on making the team," she said, and then proceeded to put her voice recorder away.

"To be honest? I think you've got it in the bag; all the staff I spoke to said you seemed like the top candidate for first line center," she told me, which surprised me.

"Really?"

"Yeah; you skate circles around everybody else and your puck-handling is unbelievable,"

"Well thanks, that's good to hear; I just might get some sleep tonight," I grinned. The reporter laughed, obviously not expecting this.

"So what, even big hockey players get nervous?" she asked.

"This one does; but I guess I'm not that big so… you could still be right," I shrugged, making her laugh again as I slowly stood up.

"You're pretty funny, I'll give you that," something about the way she said it made the hair on the back of my neck raise. She didn't honestly think…

"Thanks? Well, I better go hit the showers," I moved to go towards the locker room, but she put a hand on my arm.

"When you make the team do you think we could go to dinner and I could interview Brown's newest star player?" she asked, and I'm pretty sure my eyes just about bugged out of my head.

"L-look, you're really cool, but I'm not interested in anything right now; hockey and school is it for me," I said, and saw the look of disappointment. I must really, really look like my dad for something like this to happen. Yikes.

"You sure? It wouldn't have to be anything major or serious or anything," she tried again, but I shook my head.

"Sorry, but I need to focus right now; marks are important to me, and to try and balance hockey and school is going to be hard as hell. And there's… kind of someone back home," I fibbed, feeling like a bitch but needing to find an escape from what was a severely awkward situation for me. If she knew I was a chick, my life would be so much easier. But if the head writer for the University paper new I was a girl, so would everybody else, and there would be the end of my hockey career.

"O-oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to be pushy or anything… shit you probably think I'm some little puck after a hockey player don't you?" she asked, her voice suddenly quiet and timid as she looked mortified and embarrassed and ashamed all at once.

"No, no I don't think that at all," I assured her, putting my gloved hand on her arm for a moment. "Now if I was the fifth guy at practice you'd tried this on, then I might wonder…" I trailed off with a grin as she let out a tiny laugh.

"Thanks Cameron. I better let you go; I think I've made a big enough fool of myself as it is," she said, grabbing her over-sized purse.

"You didn't, don't worry. See you around," I nodded as she waved and made her escape, before walking back toward the locker room.

"What the fuck man? Did she seriously just try to put the moves on you?" Tyson asked, and I shrugged. As mortified as I was by the experience I did need to act like a guy around them. I could freak out and be grossed out later, in private.

"Possibly,"

"Fuck! You passed that up? What I wouldn't give for a chance with her, you know I've got a thing for red-heads man," Jacob declared, sounding angry with me.

"Well it just wouldn't work man; besides there's sort of someone back home," I replied, using my earlier excuse.

"Still! You're how far from home again?" he asked.

"I dunno; however far Manitoba is from Rhode Island," I answered. I don't know how far it is but it's like a four or five hour flight.

"So how is she gonna find out if you have a thing?"

"Fuck you man; I wouldn't do that, we've known each other forever!" I argued. Some guys are such pigs.

"Just saying: she'd never know the damn difference," he grumbled, obviously put out that I'd given up a chance with the girl he had a thing for.

"Whatever," I shook my head, starting to take my equipment off as basically everybody cleared out, wanting to go home and crash. I still had to fill out student loan forms and a shit load of other forms and papers before I could even think of sleeping.

After making sure to check everywhere that I was alone I locked the shower doors and showered as quickly as was humanely possible; drying off and changing in record time. By the time I hauled all of my equipment out to the car my uncle was letting me drive everybody else was long gone; coach included.

I got back to my uncle's to find the lights all out and the door still locked; he hadn't got home from work yet. He always worked ridiculous hours as a lawyer, and I was glad now that he'd insisted on getting me a key of my own so I could come and go as I pleased. I got right to work as soon as I could; basically finishing all the paperwork I had. It was so much more confusing after having taken a year off of school; I didn't remember all the shit that the teachers told us about what to do and what not to do.

After that I made myself a pot of KD and all but collapsed on the couch; devouring the macaroni in my bowl as I surfed through the channels on my uncle's huge flat screen TV. After finding SportsCentre I only managed to pay attention for about fifteen minutes before dozing off.


	2. Chapter 2

_Here's Chapter 2_

"Cam? Cameron are you home?" I jumped, blinking as I tried to orientate myself.

"Yeah, yeah I'm here," I replied, sitting up properly and stretching my sore shoulders as I yawned.

"God girl, do you ever look like your dad," he shook his head as he turned the light on, making me groan and shut my eyes against the bright light.

"Thanks? I think?" I asked, finally cracking an eye open and looking up at my dad's brother.

"So what's with this whole short hair thing all of a sudden? When I saw you last year it was halfway down your back," he asked, sitting down in his recliner and putting his feet up.

"It was, until two weeks ago. I wouldn't stand a chance of getting on the team if they knew I was a girl Uncle Rob, you know that," I sighed, leaning back and putting my hands behind my head.

"Sometimes I wonder how your mother let Dan talk her into letting you play with the boys all these years," he shook his head with a chuckle. I managed a small smile, the thought of my dad a happy glimpse of memory before that dark feeling crept back.

"I don't know. I just wish he could have been here to see this; I heard from one of the reporters that I've got a good chance at first line center," I told him, and saw him smile.

"He sees it, don't worry Cam. You know your dad would never miss a game," he said, both of us quiet and sober.

"I miss him Uncle Rob," I managed to choke out, fiddling with the hem of my over-sized T-shirt. He sat on the couch beside me and pulled me into a hug, one that had been needed this past week and a half.

"Me too sweetheart; me too,"

"Shit, if he wouldn't have been so stubborn… I should've made him go to the hospital earlier," he shook his head, cutting me off.

"Cam, none of us could have known he had cancer, don't beat yourself up honey. You couldn't have known," he assured me as a few tears slipped down my cheeks. My dad was always one of those people who was 'too tough' to go to the doctor; he thought it was a waste of time and that whatever it was could be fixed at home somehow. Until he got cancer. In four months the man who had been an unbreakable wall of strength in my life withered away to a shadow of himself before the disease beat him. He had desperately needed a bone marrow treatment, but none of us had been a match. I'd cried for an entire month after realizing I was totally helpless; dad had always encouraged that I could always do whatever I set my mind to. Everything but save him.

"Shh, Cam you better go to bed honey," Uncle Rob gently brought me out of my reverie with a soft kiss on top of my head. "He's here with you, no matter where you go or what you do honey, always remember that. I bet he was grinning and boasting about you all practice long."

"Thanks Uncle Rob," a small grin teased at my lips as I pictured my dad doing just that; having to catch himself several times from admitting that I wasn't his son out there, that his daughter was skating circles around his friends sons.

"No problem honey; I should be home early tomorrow night; we'll eat real food and you'll have to let me know how you do," he said, standing up.

"Sounds good Uncle Rob," I nodded, doing the same and then going downstairs to my room. I changed into my pajamas and was out before my head hit the pillow.

"So do we know who made it yet?" I asked as I walked into the rink. All of my equipment was in the car, just in case I had made the final roster cuts.

"No; somebody said he's putting up a list and then having a quick kind of interview thing with everybody. Then whoever made it is going to practice and the rest of us can leave," Josh answered as we stood there. He was the only guy on the time I'd really talked to this past week, and while we weren't overly friendly we got along.

"That's fucking ridiculous," I muttered. Josh mutely nodded, and a few of the guys in the room were complaining about the exact same thing. After ten minutes of all of us standing or sitting around awkwardly the coach came out, posted his list and retreated right back to his office. It was as if he'd put a chunk of raw meat out in a pen of hungry wolves; everybody all but attacked it to see if their name was on the list.

"Fuck!" I swore, not seeing my name anywhere. What kind of bullshit was this? If all the staff thought I was good enough for first line how could I have not made it at all? I'd be happy as a fourth line center or being made a winger, anything.

"You're kidding? Bates you didn't make it?" Ian asked, mouth hanging open. He'd been a third line center last year; and he was definitely hoping for a spot higher on the roster this year. I'd bettered him almost every time; he only beat me when he could out muscle or out size me.

"No, my name's not on the damn list," I answered, feeling like punching something. I guess I was going to the gym after this stupid interview.

"Fuck, then how the hell am I still on the team?" he asked, sounding shocked. I shrugged, not knowing myself, but I guess it's not my decision.

"Bates: you're first," the assistant coach called out into the room, and I followed him to the Coach's office.

"Have a seat. You're probably wondering why you didn't make the team?" he asked, and I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Knowing my temper I'd spout off and say something stupid.

"You're too small. You don't get physical when you play; you don't hit, you don't muscle guys around, you aren't physical enough and you aren't a big enough presence. We want to focus on the physicality of the team this year, so you aren't it. Better luck next year," he said, and just like that he seemed to dismiss me.

"Excuse me? You're telling me that I'm not on the team because I'm not a lug? How do you expect to win games without a little bit of finesse? Isn't balance important?" I asked, and he raised an eyebrow at me.

"Not your decision Bates. Better luck next year," he repeated, and with that I stormed out of the office.

"What'd he…?" the question died in Josh's throat as he saw the look on my face.

"I'm not big enough. I didn't make the fucking team because I'm not trying to pin guys to the boards every time I go by them," I snarled, not wanting to take this out on the rest of the guys but unable to check all of my anger.

"So what? The rest of us are just idiot lugs out there on the ice?" Jacob demanded, getting angry immediately.

"Never once did I say that. All I'm pissed about is that he never said I wasn't good enough to play, and I'm still fucking out," I growled at him before grabbing my stuff and getting ready to head out the door.

"You should be taking my spot Cameron," I heard Ian's quiet voice, and stopped dead in my tracks.

"Why the hell would you say that Ian? You're a good hockey player, you're smart and you read the ice well," I said, turning to look at him.

"Nowhere near as good as you," he insisted quietly.

"Don't say that Ian. You're on the team for a reason, don't forget it. Kick some ass out there guys," I said before leaving. So basically I screwed my chances with the Junior A squad back home to get rejected for no reason here.

"Hey! Bates!" I turned to see Tarren coming towards me.

"What?"

"Look, you really should be on the team; the Coach is stupid to not have you on the team," I made to cut him off, but he stuck a hand out for me to be quiet. "I'm not saying do anything stupid, but my cousin works with Scranton Penguins; you know, like the AHL team?" he asked, and my eyes nearly bugged out.

"How the hell could I not know who they are?" I asked, and he chuckled after a moment.

"Sorry, forgot you're a Pens fan. But they're having open tryouts in like a week, you really should go. You never know what could happen or who'd see you play at something like that," he shrugged.

"Shit… thank you," I said, and he just shrugged it off.

"No big deal; I'll email you the information shit after practice; email the damn forms in ASAP so they'll let you try out," he told me, and I almost couldn't find the words for it.

"Thank you so much, that means a lot to me," he shrugged.

"It blows to see the best player not make the team. Maybe it's a sign Cameron; go kick some ass out there," he said before going back inside. I got into the car and sat down hard. Wilkes-barre/Scranton Penguins, that would be ridiculous. I finally snapped out of it and drove back to my uncle's place, going on my laptop.

According to Google Maps it would be 290 miles to drive there. Then it hit me that I really had no way to get to Wilkes-Barre to even try out.

"Shit," I groaned, wishing I'd thought of that earlier. Regardless I didn't intend to stay here and mooch off of my Uncle, so I started packing some stuff up. By the time he got home at five o'clock almost everything was put away.

"Hey Cameron; which line are you on?" he asked, and I grimaced, wishing it wasn't the first thing out of his mouth.

"None. I didn't make the team," I admitted, and he stopped what he was doing to look at me incredulously.

"Seriously? You didn't make the team?"

"Unfortunately I'm being dead serious," I nodded, finding myself enveloped in a bearhug.

"That's awful! I thought you had it in the bag?" he asked, and I shrugged. To be honest I thought I'd had it in the bag too.

"Coach said I wasn't physical enough on the ice or big enough. He wants to work on the team's physicality this year and doesn't see me as helping that," I huffed, and Uncle Rob sneered.

"That's bullshit; even a physical team has to have finesse. You could work on being physical if you had the chance,"

"Well it's whatever; it's over and done I guess," I shrugged, not wanting him to get upset; I'm pretty sure he wanted me to make the team as badly as I did. We made dinner, after I managed to get the topic turned around to his day rather than the disappointment of me not making the team.

"It was okay, but my boss wants me to move to the Pittsburgh branch now," he said, which shocked me. Uncle Rob had worked here since he graduated.

"What?"

"Yeah; it would be a move up, but I don't know," he shrugged, poking at his spaghetti. At thirty-four he'd spent his entire life after school devoted to this firm; he didn't even go out or anything anymore. It was sad; Uncle Rob's one of the coolest guys I know, but he doesn't do anything half-assed, so that means he cut out a lot of things from his life to do the best job he could.

"I don't know what to tell you Uncle Rob," I said, wondering if I should tell him about being able to try out for the Penguins.

"Is there any other hockey teams you can try out for Cam? If they're nearby you can just live with me and play,"

"Well, one of the guys who made the team got me the forms and stuff to try out for a team," I started, a little wary about this.

"What team? What league do they play?" he asked, interested now as he began to eat again.

"Wilkes-Barre/Scranton Penguins, in Pennsylvania; they're an AHL team," I answered, and he nearly choked on his food as his eyes widened.

"An AHL team? Cameron you can't pass up that kind of an opportunity!" he insisted.

"I don't know Uncle Rob; I can't just drive out to Wilkes-Barre, and how could I afford a place out there? I just don't know how it would work if I even made the team. All those guys have basically been drafted into the NHL, I can't compete with that," I told him, feeling disappointed even as I said it. When I emailed Alain Nasreddine, the assistant coach, with the forms I also mentioned that I didn't know for sure whether or not I could make the try-outs, and he'd replied that it was all right; if I didn't show, I didn't show, as simple as that.

"How far is Wilkes-Barre from Pittsburgh Cam? Maybe this was supposed to work out," he suggested, pulling his laptop out of his bag and starting to look it up.

"Two hundred and sixty-five miles," he sighed a moment later. That's like a four-hour drive without stopping.

"It's just not gonna work Uncle Rob," I shook my head.

"No, it might work. Jut a second…" he trailed off as he began typing again.

"Hmm… a friend of mine from University is living there right now with his wife, maybe you could board with them? I mean, we'd pay them rent or whatever but they would be great with that; he's a big fan of the Penguins," he insisted, but I still wasn't sure.

"Uncle Rob I can't just invite myself like that," I argued, but he shook his head.

"I'll email him, okay? I'll take some time off and we'll go down for the tryouts and then see how it goes, okay?"

"I don't know, if I somehow made the team and found out I couldn't play… I don't think I could handle it Uncle Rob," I admitted, feeling like a tool but knowing it was true.

"We'll find a way to make it work Cam; this is the opportunity of a lifetime for you," he assured me, and I managed a smile.

"Thanks Uncle Rob,"

"Anytime Cameron,"


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3! Feedback would be great - my other story is kind of on the back burner for right now, so sorry to anybody who was reading it! I'm working primarily on this one but I will continue to work on the first story as well! _

Four days later we were packing up the car to head out to Wilkes-Barre, my uncle excitedly chattering away, a smile on his face that he just couldn't get rid of. I think the last time he took any time off of work was when my dad passed away, and possibly for one Christmas sometime before that, and that was all I could ever remember.

I fell asleep while he was driving, and when it was time to switch laughed when I realized he'd been trying to wake me up for a few minutes in the parking lot of a gas station.

"Sorry," I sheepishly said, and he just smiled and shook his head.

"Too nervous to sleep last night?" he asked, and I nodded.

"Don't worry about it honey, you'll do great,"

"Thanks," we grabbed some snack food and hit the road again, with me driving the remaining hundred and forty or so miles to Wilkes-Barre. We got there right around supper time, so we checked into a hotel and then went out for supper.

"Holy shit," I choked on my pop as I saw two men walk into the restaurant.

"What? Who's that?" he asked.

"Brad Thiessen and Simon Despres," I hissed, not wanting them to hear.

"Oh,"

"The goalie and a top-pick defenseman," I supplied, and his eyes widened.

"Wow, that's exciting. Think of it; tomorrow you're gonna be skating with those guys," he said, and I couldn't help but smile; I was so ecstatic about trying out.

"You're trying out?" Simon asked, startling us. They must have been close enough to hear us when Uncle Rob was talking.

"Yeah, we just drove out from Rhode Island today," I nodded.

"Cool; nice to meet you. I'm Simon," he offered me his hand, which I gladly shook.

"Cameron Bates, and this is my Uncle; Rob Bates," I introduced him and Simon shook his hand as well.

"Simon Despres; I play defense. Well good luck to you tomorrow; I'll see you at the rink. Nine o'clock sharp, right?"

"You bet; see you then," I nodded, and he walked over to the table Brad Thiessen had sat down at.

"Wow, that was cool," I said to Uncle Rob after a moment.

"Better get over the star-struck thing Cam; they could very well be your teammates before long," he told me, as if it were no big deal as he went back to eating his hamburger. I continued eating, trying to comprehend all of this happening. I'd never imagined I would be in Pennsylvania trying out for an AHL team; I had honestly worried I'd never make it past Junior A hockey.

I hardly slept all night; my stomach was too touchy and my nerves too jumbled. I knew it would more than likely hurt me tomorrow, but I couldn't seem to calm myself down enough to even get a good night's sleep. I was up and ready to go at eight, sitting on the edge of my bed waiting for Uncle Rob to get going so he could drive me to the rink. Then I think he had plans to meet up with a bunch of friends he'd went to school with; they'd kept in touch but hadn't seen each other in years.

"Come on! I'm gonna be late!" I complained as he finally came out of the bathroom.

"Cool it Cam; it's only twenty after eight; you'll be there plenty early," he rolled his eyes at me before we headed outside. The drive took about fifteen minutes so I had lots of time to check out the arena before changing. I always wore my Under-Armor and everything under my clothes so I didn't really have to 'change', it made things way less complicated for me.

"Hello? Who're you?" I lifted my head to see John Hynes walk in, with Alain Nasreddine behind him.

"Cameron Bates? Nice to meet you," he immediately offered his hand for me to shake as I stood up.

"Nice to meet you; you must be Alain Nasreddine,"

"Yes; and this is John Hynes; he's head coach. John this is the guy I was telling you about," he said, and John gave me a slightly unbelieving look.

"You are a pretty small guy, aren't you?"

"Yeah, unfortunately I'm a little undersized," I agreed, to which he chuckled.

"Well that's a good start; usually guys get offended or spout off. I'm John, nice to meet you. Alain was showing me some footage and telling me all about you yesterday," he grinned, finding my apparent surprise funny.

"R-really? Wow, that's…" I was at a loss for words.

"So you're not playing with the Bears? Why the change of heart?" he asked me a moment later. I felt my cheeks heat up, the disappointment not quite gone.

"I didn't make the team. The coach told me they were trying to add to the physicality this year and he didn't see me as a part of that," I answered, not able to make eye contact with him.

"So you're not a physical player on the ice?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I can be; I've just always been taught to try and use my speed rather than get shown up trying to outmuscle guys five inches taller and forty pounds heavier. But I'll learn, I can work on it," I assured him, to which he nodded.

"We'll run some drills and see about that. At least you're willing to work on it. It should be a good practice," he said, and suddenly the door swung open and four guys walked in.

"Bates! Nice to see you again," Simon grinned as he saw me.

"You too Despres; ready to play?"

"So you've met?" John asked, looking confused.

"Thiessen and I went for supper last night and heard Cam talking to his uncle about trying out, so we talked for like a minute," he shrugged, walking over to his spot and putting his gear down.

"Well that's good; you'll get to know the guys pretty quickly Cam. I'll see you guys in about twenty minutes out on the ice," he said, and with a wave John left.

"Good luck guys," Alain added before leaving as well.

"So just where are you from?" Brad asked.

"Manitoba; I was in Rhode Island with my uncle trying out for the Bears, and then a guy on the team told me about the try outs," I answered, sinking to the floor to stretch a bit before-hand. I never did any big stretches before a few warm-up laps, I was still a little stiff in places from Bear's tryouts.

"Cool! What town?"

"Delarane," I answered, and he looked confused.

"Don't worry about it; it's a small town," I reassured him with a chuckle as we all began putting our equipment on. I happened to be rustling through my bag for something while they were changing, not wanting to catch a glimpse of anybody as more guys were continuously filing in.

"All right! Three laps to warm up and then do some stretching guys!" John instructed before blowing his whistle. The first lap was slow, and as soon as I felt my muscles easing into the motion I sped up, and then realized I was way ahead of everybody. Immediately I slowed down, not wanting to look like a show-off; it had just always been my routine.

"None of that Bates! If you're gonna give it skate hard," John hollered from the other side of the rink so I would hear it. My face turned red as I refused to do so, hanging in the middle of the pack.

"Bates!" once we were back with everybody he called me out again.

"Yes?"

"Get your ass up; do two laps; one like you were and then I want to see you give it all you've got," he told me, and when I hesitated he blew his whistle and raised an eyebrow. So I did as I was told, and it felt great to dig my skates in and fly down the length of the rink to whip into a stop back in front of him.

"Impressive. Now if I see you holding back because you don't want to 'embarrass' yourself or whatever your problem was that's it; you're here to compete remember," he said, tapping my shin with his hockey stick and leaving me dumbfounded. I sat down on the ice, basically in the splits to stretch, still a little embarrassed and confused.

"Shit he's fast," I heard the whisper, and let out a deep breath. I couldn't let anything distract me, I wasn't going to screw this up.

The next two hours was being split up and doing drills; letting John and Alain see how we skated, stick-handled, read the ice, took shots, that sort of thing.

Then it was time for a little contact scrimmage.

I was nervous, I'll admit; I was definitely the smallest person out on the ice. But I had to take a deep breath and square my shoulders, pretend like I wasn't almost scared enough to call it quits.

I took the puck up the ice, trying to be as fast as possible, until I realized the rest of my line wasn't there with me, and I was stuck between Simon and Alex Grant. I managed to avoid them just long enough to see Carl Sneep cross the blue line. Just as I was passing the puck I was slammed into the boards, feeling the air leave my chest as all six foot four inches of Simon pinned me there for a moment before continuing on his way.

"Shit," I choked out a breath before forcing myself back into the play. I chased Alex down deep, and saw the opportunity to hit. This wasn't really my thing, I'm more of a steal the puck from you and get the hell out of there type of player in this kind of situation, but I needed to prove to John that I could play physical. So I slammed into him, catching his left shoulder with my left, both of us staggering back after the hit.

"Shit, did you seriously just try to hit me?" he asked after John blew the whistle as Brad covered up the puck.

"Yeah, I don't think it worked," I admitted, feeling stupid.

"Hey, I didn't keep going with the puck, that counts as a good hit," he assured me, much to my surprise. Now my shoulder hurt like a bitch though.

Our line sat off, Ben Street and Paul Thompson both talking about their play and what they could've done differently. I sat there and quietly watched the rest of the guys, trying to find tendencies, and most of all figure out how they were hitting.

"Hey, next time you try to hit somebody, drop your shoulder just a little," Ben suggested, startling me.

"Huh?"

"Drop your shoulder, it gives them a little more impact and uses your momentum. You're one of those speedy little puck stealers aren't you?"

"Yeah, I'm not exactly big enough to be the 'I'm gonna muscle it from you' kind of player; as we all saw," I grinned, making both of them laugh.

"You'll learn, don't worry. It's just weird when you're not used to playing like that, but when you get into the swing of it you'll figure it out," Paul assured me.

"Thanks, that's good to hear," I nodded.

"So how old are you?"

"I turn twenty the end of October," I answered, and he nodded.

"Lots of time to learn, don't worry yourself about it. John knows what people he can work with and help improve and who won't; just cuz you don't know how to do it now doesn't mean you're screwed off a roster spot," he shrugged, as if it was no big deal and I was guaranteed a spot on the team. It was cool to actually feel accepted by guys on this team; nobody had been mean to me or tried to make me feel like I was different and an outsider here.

By the time practice was over I was so tired I could hardly stand up. John gave us a bit of a pep-talk, as tomorrow would be kind of a practice followed by a scrimmage that would be open to the public. By the time I left the rink and got back to the hotel I was more than ready to sleep. I crawled onto my bed and laid there, breathing deeply and wishing I could fall asleep but too excited for it to happen. I was here, trying out for an actual fricking AHL team, and more than that I was even holding my own.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey Cameron, how did try outs go?" Uncle Rob asked as he came in the door about an hour later.

"Good, good; I think I'm holding my own out there; tried a couple of hits," I said, sitting up and feeling the stiffness in my ribs and left shoulder.

"Oh? Are you all right? How did that go?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Okay, minus the part that the first guy I tried to hit was way, way bigger than me, so it didn't really work out. But everybody was really good about it and gave me advice and stuff," I told him before briefly recounting the main highlights of practice for him.

"That's great Cam! I knew you'd do awesome,"

"So, how was hanging out with your friends?" I asked, and go the total recount of his visit with Sam Barron and his wife.

"And if you do make the team, they are more than happy with you staying with them; they had a player stay with them last season too," he added at the end, to which I was a little uncomfortable about. I didn't want him to just ask, because it's kind of weird.

"But still… that's kind of…"

"No it's not; they've had a billet for the past three seasons, it'll be even better because they'll kind of know you; you won't be a total stranger to them," he insisted.

"Let's go grab something to eat, okay? Do you have practice tomorrow too?"

"Yeah, same time as today, and the scrimmage is open to the public," I answered on the way out to the car. Uncle Rob made me drive, seeing as if I made the team I'd need to learn how to get around by myself, and decided that we would go to Subway; it's healthy, fast, delicious AND has cookies, so it doesn't get much better than that.

"So would it be cool is Sam and Leah came with me to watch your scrimmage?" he asked, and I nodded.

"Yeah, of course it would be. Um… Uncle Rob, did you tell them…?" I asked, and he shook his head.

"No, I let them just assume that you're a boy; I don't know exactly how you've gotten away with it this far but I'll let you handle that however you choose to," he said, which I was kind of glad about. I wasn't sure if I was ready to tell them or if I could trust them to not say anything to anybody. It would depend how things went, I guess.

"Okay, thanks. We'll see how things go, I guess, if I even make the team," I nodded, and ignored my uncle as he rolled his eyes. How he just assumed that I could make any team I tried out for I had no idea.

The rest of the day was spent kind of touring around Wilkes-Barre and then renting a movie after supper to watch back at the hotel room; I wanted to go to sleep early and make sure I was well rested for practice tomorrow.

Nine o'clock saw about thirty five of us waiting on the ice; having already done laps, warmed up and stretched, and we were just waiting now on John and Alain to start practice.

"Guys!" We turned to see them coming down the steps, with two other men in tow. All of us became dead silent as slowly everybody recognized them; Dan Bylsma and Ray Shero.

"We have two very special guests here to watch practice; most of you should know who they are. Everybody this is Dan, and Ray, and they're going to be watching practice all morning, all right? So now let's get down to business,"

It was similar to yesterday; all the drills, the imitation breakaways and working different situations. By the time noon rolled around we were all getting a little tired, but we were too full of nervous energy at the Pittsburgh Penguins' coach and GM being here to ever admit it or show it.

"Whoa, Bates, don't even try it," Thompson cautioned me as I came up to him; he was trying to protect the puck from me, and he must've known I was sizing him up to try and check him.

"Fine then; this will work too," I grinned deking him out and stealing the puck from him to take off down the ice.

"Are you kidding me? And they're trying to make that little bugger hit?" he complained good-naturedly as he was in pursuit. I passed the puck at the last second across to Street who slammed in a beautiful one-timer. Needless to say we celebrated a little bit. It was weird to hear people cheering and laughing at some of the guys antics, and looking out the arena was probably about half-full of fans; all of them wearing Penguins swag of some kind.

At one o'clock the Coach called the scrimmage to an end, and instead of everybody filing out of the arena as per usual, they stuck around as many of the fans came up to the glass to try and take pictures and that sort of thing. A few of the more daring, younger kids even wandered away from their parents to try and came out onto the ice to meet some of the guys, like Brad and Simon, and one even came over to me.

"Hi! What's your name?" he asked, he couldn't be older than six or seven years old.

"I'm Cameron. What's your name?" I asked, and he grinned from ear to ear.

"Michael! Can my mom take a picture of you?" I nodded, skating alongside him as he made his way over to the entrance to the tunnel that led to the locker room. I stood and smiled for the picture with him, much to the little boy's delight. After about twenty minutes of this the fans all began to leave and then we could make our way to the locker room, so again I hung back to 'stretch out my knee' and cool down.

"Bates? Can I speak to you for a bit?" I turned in surprise before making my way over to John.

"Sure Coach; what's up?" I asked, and he grinned.

"You're doing a great job, I did some research, and I have no idea how you didn't make the Bears. I know physicality isn't really a huge part of your game, but I think we can easily work around that and help you improve without sacrificing the finesse you play with. What I wanted to talk to you about was Dan and Ray are really impressed with your performance during practice and scrimmage," I nodded, not trusting my voice as John was talking. I could feel my knees shaking with excitement at what he was saying.

"They both agreed that you're a very strong player for your age, and they may be interested in having you play up a bit during the season, and then we'll see depending on how you improve over the season," he continued.

"W-wow, seriously?" I asked, wishing I could pinch myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming right now.

"Yeah, seriously. You're a fantastic hockey player,"

"Thank you, thank you so much," I couldn't believe this, it was amazing.

"So I think it's obvious that we want you on the team, if you're wanting to sign with us. Well, technically you're signing with Pittsburgh, because Ray and Dan do want to have the opportunity to call you up, and as much as I'd love to know you were only on my team I think you're too good to be a farm-league for life player,"

"That means the world to me, thank you so much," was all I could manage to say to him.

"Good. Well as soon as you get showered up come to my office and we'll talk contracts and everything; Dan, Alain and Ray will all be there, and we'll figure something out. And don't worry; you don't have to sign it right now, or today; we'll figure out some kind of agent agreement or find a lawyer or somebody to help work the deal out for you, okay?" again I could hardly manage to nod before he patted my shoulder and left the ice. I couldn't resist; once I heard the door close down the tunnel I let out a whoop and did a little victory lap before heading in to go and shower.

After that I texted Uncle Rob to give him a bit of a teaser of my good news before heading to the office. I was formally introduced to Dan and Ray, and while it was weird they were discussing my abilities and potential and at least to me it sounded like they thought I could be really good. I was on Cloud 9 the entire time.

"Actually, not to hurt your Pens John, I think we should bring you out for a few pre-season games, see if you click anywhere with our guys, then let you settle in here if you need some time," Ray suggested, and they all chuckled as I stared at them. There was no way in hell this was actually happening to me.

"Oh all right; if you must," John rolled his eyes, laughing along with them.

"So Bates? Sound good to you?"

"Sounds fantastic," I agreed, and they all smiled again.

"Well then, pack your bags; I want you in Pittsburgh next Friday for conditioning camp and practice. We'll keep working on the paperwork and contract negotiations, and by that time we'll have found you a good agent and a lawyer to help out," Ray grinned.

"Yes sir, thank you so much," I said, standing and shaking all of their hands.

"No problem. If you want to come in tomorrow Cam I'll help you go over some of the paperwork so you'll have a bit of an idea what to expect in the contract," John offered.

"That would be greatly appreciated, thanks Mr. Hynes," I nodded, unable to keep the grin off of my face.

"He'll really add to your Pens core," Alain chuckled, causing some confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"You'll have every girl in the state going nuts; Crosby, Staal, LeTang, Malkin and now Bates? They're gonna think we're running a model agency instead of a hockey team," he shook his head, cracking up with laughter. They all noticed my face turn bright red, and the laughter got worse.

"Now you're embarrassing the poor kid; leave him alone. I'm sure Flower and Staalsy will give him a hard enough time as it is," Dan told him, and moments later we said goodbye and I was on my way out of the arena.

Out of the arena soon to be a Pittsburgh Penguin. Wow.


	5. Chapter 5

"Cam, Cameron look at me, you're gonna be fine, calm down," Uncle Rob was trying to help me breath as I sat in the car outside Consol Energy Center, too petrified to get out of the car. I'd been so excited, now all I could think about was making an ass of myself in front of the hockey team I'd dreamed of playing on and loved my whole life.

"N-no, I can't do this Uncle Rob, I really, really can't," I gulped, feeling like I was going to be sick.

"Yes you can. Now march your butt out there and skate like you did last week in Wilkes-Barre," he ordered, and as if by magic I could breathe a little bit easier. Shakily I got out of the car and got my equipment out of the trunk, before standing at the window, my knees shaking uncontrollably.

"I wish I could watch you Cam; you'll do great, just relax," he reassured me, and I nodded before turning to walk into the arena. I probably looked as out of place as could be; a tiny girl hauling a hockey bag into Consol Energy Center, even though I guess to everyone else I passed as a boy. It didn't help to ease my nerves when I saw the framed photos of the team on the walls as I went.

"Cameron! There you are; did you get lost?" Dan asked with a welcoming smile as he saw me. I managed a weak one back for him, and realization dawned on his face.

"Nervous?" I nodded, and he put his arm around my shoulders as we walked down the hall.

"Don't worry about it; the guys aren't that scary, I promise. It'll be just like in Wilkes-Barre," he assured me, and then knocked once on the locker room door before swinging it open.

"Guys! This is Cameron Bates," he said by means of introduction. I managed a sort-of wave, feeling like I was going to pass out.

"Hey! You're that kid who tried out for Brown, right?" I nodded when Sidney Crosby walked over, completely starstruck.

"Nice to meet you," he offered me his hand to shake, and then grinned when he got close enough to see I was nearly shaking.

"Aww come on; don't be nervous, we aren't gonna eat you or anything,"

"Well Staalsy might if he gets hungry, but as long as you can outrun Brooks you're safe," Tyler Kennedy chirped, earning a swat from his larger teammate.

"And you can't listen to a word TK says; everything that comes out of his mouth is bullshit," was the blonde forward's retaliation, and I managed to crack a smile.

"Better already, see we aren't that bad," Craig Adams said with a smile.

"So, help Cameron out, show him around, and I want you guys out on the ice in thirty minutes, okay?" everybody voiced some agreement before Dan left the room.

"Marc-Andre Fleury, nice to meet you," and one by one the guys introduced themselves as if I didn't know who they were. As if the whole hockey world didn't know who they were, and more than a few beaks were thrown back and forth between friends. By the time I had all my equipment on I could at least breath normally and almost make conversation.

"So, where are you from?" Jordan asked me.

"Delarane, it's in Manitoba," I answered, and he nodded.

"Down south of Winnipeg, right?"

"Yeah, sort of," I agreed, and he smiled.

"Hey, I'm trying! Give me a break," was his good-natured reply, and I couldn't help but laugh. He was a cool guy, that's for sure.

"Hey Staalsy! Your girl's here!" Craig called, and Jordan looked up, giving her a half-hearted wave as she sat down with some of the other guys' wives.

"Girlfriend?" I asked, and he nodded, letting out a slow breath.

"Yeah. Things are… complicated," he replied, getting a little quiet. I took this as the hint to drop it, and did so. I didn't want to make the six foot four giant angry at me; he could destroy me if he wanted to.

"I know what you mean," I nodded, skating along beside him as we warmed up.

"You've got a girl back home?" he asked, eager for the change of subject. I became uncomfortable, not knowing what to say in this situation. I didn't want to be awkward, but I didn't like telling the guys at Brown that there was sort of someone when there wasn't and they assumed that it was a girl, it was too weird.

"Sort of," I offered, and he nodded.

"Got it. I know what that's like; it's a kind of thing but not because of the distance?" Sure, I'd go with that.

"Yeah, pretty much,"

"Just wait it out, if she's worth it it'll work out," he said with a pat on my shoulder as we joined the rest of the team to stretch.

"Don't take love advice from Staalsy; you will be screwed," Craig warned me, while Marc chuckled.

"Unless he wants to get screwed," he managed to choke out before bursting into laughter, along with the rest of us.

"That's not what I meant and you know it!" Craig told us, and I nodded. The conversation continued for a few minutes until Dan came and quieted everyone down.

Every drill they ran Jordan helped clue me in if I didn't know what was going on. He was also my partner for any drills that required it. He was easy to get along with, and we meshed really well to play together, which Dan seemed to notice.

"Neal? Is it okay if you sit for a couple shifts? We'll try sticking you in somewhere else in a minute here," he called, giving me a tap on the side with his hockey stick. I hesitantly made my way out to center, taking Neal's spot on Jordan's left hand side. He gave me a reassuring smile and a nod before focusing on the puck about to drop. The scrimmage started so fast I didn't quite notice it. I was doing catch up, trying to keep up with the play for the entire first shift. As we made our way back to the bench it must have been beyond obvious I was upset with myself because both Jordan and Kunitz seemed to notice.

"Hey, it's okay Bates; it takes a few shifts to get used to it," Chrus insisted, and Jordan nodded.

"Cameron you're doing fine! Just ease into it and play, stop over-thinking," Jordan added, and I nodded, even though I was still disappointed. I hadn't done anything that would even make them look at me twice to keep me on the team.

"Here we go," Jordan grinned as we got ready to start our shift on the fly.

"Come on," I mumbled under my breath as TK came up. As soon as I saw the blades of his skates come up off the ground I was gone, and felt the long-bomb pass his my tape as I intercepted it.

"Atta boy Bates," I heard Sullivan's encouragement from the bench as I deked out Brent and slipped a backhander into the net behind him.

"See? You were just over-thinking," Jordan grinned, patting my helmet as Christ skated over.

"Shit you're fast; great interception. The goal wasn't too bad either," he smirked, and Jordan and I laughed as we lined up for the face off again.

This time it was way easier, I stopped freaking myself out and started to just play, and then started having fun. From there things seemed to start to fall in place; I always seemed to find Jordan to pass; and likewise I was always in the right place at the right time for him to return the favor.

"Shit, we're working magic out there! Geno doesn't even know what to do with you Bates!" Jordan laughed as we sat down on the bench after another shift.

"Thanks,"

"He's being serious; you are kicking some ass out there kid. Not too shabby for a rookie," Craig grinned, and I returned it.

When Dan called everybody in we were all getting pretty tired, which he'd noticed by the fact that there was more goofing around happening than hard-core practicing.

"Good job today guys; great effort! I think we're starting to figure out who's gonna mesh with who on what lines, so it's been a good day. Get some sleep and we'll be back at it tomorrow," he said, and as we all started to move toward the locker rooms he tapped me on the shoulder.

"Cam? Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure Coach," I nodded, standing beside him and waiting. Jordan shot me a small grin and tapped my shin with his hockey stick as he went by, so I had a feeling this was a good thing.

"Cam you did an amazing job out there; two goals in a scrimmage is fantastic," he started, embarrassing me a little bit.

"Thanks,"

"I'm being serious. I want you on the team; you and Staalsy are lethal out there together," he continued, surprising me again.

"Wow, that would be amazing," I managed, and he smiled.

"For you and me both. I figured I should give you the heads up that you weren't heading back to Wilkes-Barre. Not that I don't want you to keep trying and playing the way you are, but it might make life easier on you. And this way you know where to look for a place to stay," he continued.

"Thanks so much Coach Bylsma, this means everything to me," I repeated, to which he shrugged.

"You got here all by yourself, I'm just here to help you along," he replied, before giving me a pat on the back and gently pushing me in the direction of the locker room.

"Now go shower up and get some rest; tomorrow's gonna be a hard day too," he told me. I nodded and walked down the tunnel, before pausing at the door to the locker room. I took a deep breath, before making sure to be watching my feet as I walked in, just in case.

Luckily everybody seemed to have a similar routine to me; down to their Under Armor and Spandex and stretching out; a few of the guys were in their T-shirts and gym shorts, but everybody seemed to be giving their muscles a good stretch before hitting the showers.

"So, good news?" Jordan asked me. I stripped my equipment off as quickly as possible before sinking to the floor to stretch.

"Yeah, I would say so," I agreed, grinning like a banshee at the impatient look on his face.

"Well are you gonna tell me or not?" he demanded, playfully elbowing me as I laughed.

"He wants me to play with you guys," I finally told him, and Jordan let out a little whoop.

"Yes! Dyn-a-mite! Haha! We are gonna kick some ass out there Bates!" he said, and soon I was being congratulated from everybody in the locker room.

"Good job Bates; you deserve it," I felt a little guilty as Neal came up to me, seeing as I'd basically taken his spot on the roster. I knew it was supposed to be a no-apologies thing, but I couldn't help feeling bad.

"Don't even say it; you guys know each other like you've played together forever, the team needs that. I'm doing good with Craig," he assured me.

"Thanks," it was nice to have some of the guilt taken off of me by Neal's words, even though I still felt bad about it. As some of the guys started heading to go shower I began to worry, and then decided to go do some stairs up and down the bleachers to 'cool down' and kill time.

"Shit, do you ever quit?" Jordan asked, and I shrugged.

"I've got to try and keep up to you guys, I'll do whatever I have to," I answered, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Even Sid isn't that obsessive Cam, you'll do just as good without killing yourself on stairs," he insisted.

"Trying to re-strengthen my knee still, stairs help," I turned to my second reason, which was also true.

"Really? It doesn't bother it?" he asked, a little curious.

"It depends. I mean, I'm not gonna run them full tilt or anything, but the more conditioning I do the better,"

"Good point. Well have fun with that; I'm hitting the showers and then sleeping when I get home," Jordan grinned, and I nodded. That's what I was going to do as soon as they had all left.

"Jordy?" There was a slight look of panic on his face before he masked it perfectly, turning to look at his girlfriend who'd let herself into the locker room.

"Hey hon," he went to give her a hug and instead she pulled his mouth down to hers, and when he tried to pull away she held him there a few moments longer. Long enough that I felt ridiculously awkward.

"Hey baby, how are you? Looked like a rough practice," she cooed, fiddling with his hair.

"I'm fine,"

"Well I'll talk to you later Jordan," I stuttered, wanting to get out of the awkward situation as soon as was possible. I spent nearly twenty five minutes walking and jogging up and down the steps of the arena, before doing some high knees and butt-kicks in the hall way and stretching out again. I figured that about forty minutes should be long enough for everyone to have cleared out of the showers.

When I went back in I thought I was right, until I saw Jordan trying to shake his girlfriend long enough to get his jacket on.

"Sorry Cam, we'll leave so you can shower," he made a point of saying it loudly, and looking put out his girlfriend took a half-step away from him so he could get his jacket on and put on his toque.

"Thanks. See you tomorrow," I said, giving them a half-assed wave and waiting until I heard the door shut before hurrying and showering in about five minutes.


	6. Chapter 6

When Uncle Rob and I got back to the hotel I was ready to die and get some sleep, but instead my phone was going off like crazy.

"Hello?"

"CAM FOR GOD'S SAKES GIRL DO YOU NEVER ANSWER YOUR PHONE?" met me, and I laughed even though I felt bad. With the craziness of the past week and a half or so I'd completely forgot to let my best friend know what was up.

"I'm sorry! I've been busy Becka," I insisted, and heard her huff.

"Fine. So? You playing for the Bears?" she asked.

"No, I kind of one or two-upped the Bears,"

"What? What the hell are you talking about?" she demanded, I laughed, knowing that her short temper was on it's last fuse.

"I'm playing for the Penguins," I told her, not a hundred percent sure if she knew who I was talking about. Hockey's not really her thing; she's more of a clothes and makeup kind of girl, so how we're best friends I don't know.

"YOU'RE KIDDING?" she gasped, which told me she did know who I was talking about.

"No, I'm serious! The coach cut me from the Bears, and one of the guys thought I should've made the team. One of his friend's or something worked for the AHL Penguins so he got me the info and stuff to try-out for them, and then Dan Bylsma and Ray Shero were at practice and wanted me to try out with the NHL Penguins and now I'm in Pittsburgh," I told her, and heard her shriek.

"This is perfect!"

"Perfect? Thanks,"

"I got into the Arts Institute there! Cam we can live together! This will be so much fun!" she shrieked, and I felt my grin grow.

"That would be awesome!"

"Have you started looking for a place yet?"

"No I haven't, have you?" I asked.

"No, but I don't start until the end of October or beginning of November," she answered. I pulled my laptop over to me to start looking at some listings.

"Well I'll start checking that out, is the Institute close to the rink at all, do you know?" I asked, booting it up so I could check out some listings and stuff.

"It's really close!" she exclaimed a few minutes later. Uncle Rob came back into the room with the pizza he'd grabbed, and gave me a questioning look.

"That's perfect! I'll start checking out some listings, okay? Talk to you later; I think we're having supper," I said, and after a fairly short goodbye, for us, I hung up. I sat down at the little table in the room with Uncle Rob, bringing my laptop with me to search while we ate.

"SO what's going on?" he asked.

"Well, you know how they want me on the team here, right?" he nodded, taking another bite.

"Well my best friend Becka got into the Arts Institute here; it's really close to the rink and we could get an apartment together," I explained, and his face just lit up.

"Cam, that's fantastic!" and so the rest of the night was spent finding apartments that would be suitable for us. I still crashed early, and got up with about two hours to spare before practice.

My phone went off again, and I wondered who it was. I don't have caller ID, which I really should get, but I answered it anyway.

"Cam? It's Becka again, any luck?" she asked.

"Found quite a few actually, we'll go check some out today after practice is over," I told her.

"They all think you're a guy, don't they?" she asked.

"Yeah, they do," I replied, knowing she thought it was weird as hell that I did this. She didn't understand that I loved it enough to completely overhaul who I was; hockey was my life.

"Well I was thinking about this last night. If they all think you're a boy will they think it's weird if you have a girl move in with you?" she asked. I'd honestly never even thought about that possibility.

"I don't know…"

"Well I thought about it last night. This may be weird and all, but if they ask would it make more sense for me to be your supposed girlfriend? I mean, then they won't wonder if you're 'gay' or a girl or whatever," she offered.

"Becka you don't have to do that, we both know it'll be weird as hell," I argued.

"Well then we stage a break up. Have you never seen 'She's The Man'?" she asked, and I chuckled. Trust Becka to come out with a movie reference.

"Yes,I've seen 'She's The Man'," I sighed.

"Same thing. So they won't suspect a thing! And besides, then you can introduce me to the very good-looking Sidney Crosby,"

"Oh Jeez Becka, don't you think that might be suspicious?" I laughed, having wondered where her motivation was. She thought Crosby was about the sexiest thing to walk planet Earth. Not that I would disagree that he's good looking, but you know what I mean.

"Well after we do this so-called 'break up', you can tell him how things were better when we were just friends and that it really wouldn't bother you, etcetera, and ta-da!" she giggled, knowing she was making me laugh.

"Okay, okay, we'll try it. Want me to take pictures of any of the places we go to?" I asked.

"Yeah, that'd be good. I've gotta go to work though, talk to you later!"

"Bye Becka!"

"Bye Cam!"


	7. Chapter 7

Practice went by much the same as yesterday, but if anything Jordan and I worked together even better today. We were both on-point for knowing where we had to be and where the other was going to be, it was ridiculous. I've never been like that with anybody on a team before.

"Wow, are we ever gonna kick some ass out there!" he smirked as we sat down on the bench. My knee had been bothering me a little bit today, but it felt okay with the brace on.

"Bates? What's wrong?" Dan asked, startling me.

"Uh… um…" I felt like an idiot, tripping over my tongue and not knowing what to say.

"Knee acting up?" Jordan asked and I finally found my voice.

"It's just a little stiff is all, it'll be fine," I told him, and he raised an eyebrow.

"No pushing it; I don't want you hurt before the season starts," he warned me. "Any more trouble and you sit, understand?"

"Yes Coach," I nodded, feeling a little put out. Goddamn knee.

"Serious, it seems like a bummer but it's better than needing surgery," Sullivan told me, and grudgingly I nodded.

"I know. I just hate it," I grumbled, making him laugh. He kind of reminded me of my dad in a roundabout way.

"You'll be fine; just relax and listen to your body. If it tells you to stop, stop and give it some rest," he said, and I felt myself choking on tears. That was what my dad had told me every time I'd tried to push myself after hurting my knee in the tenth grade.

"Whoa… Cam?" Jordan asked, noticing my condition.

"Did I upset you?" Sullivan asked, both of them a little weirded out, which I didn't blame them.

"Shit, I'm sorry. It's just… my dad always used to say that," I sniffed, biting my lip to keep the tears at bay.

"Your dad?" Jordan asked, and I nodded.

"I lost him to cancer about six months ago," I whispered, staring at my feet as I tried to keep an onslaught of tears at bay.

After a moment I felt an arm around my shoulder and was pulled into a hug by my newfound friend; Jordan trying to comfort me as I tried not to cry. I could tell he felt a little bit awkward; we were at practice after all, but obviously the need to make sure I was okay over-rode the need to be all 'manly'.

"I'm sorry Cam, I had no idea," Sullivan started, but I shook my head.

"Don't worry about it, you didn't know," I insisted, trying to work up a smile for him.

"It's okay," Jordan mumbled, and after a moment I pulled away, feeling like I'd gotten control of myself. I looked up to see the rest of the team standing there, looking concerned, and felt my face turn bright red as I looked at my feet. Jordan's hand was still comfortingly on my back.

"Bates? What's wrong?" Dan asked, and I had to bite my lip again, refusing to look up at my teammates as I felt a few hot tears escape.

"I said something that made him think of his dad; he lost his dad to cancer pretty recently," Sullivan stepped in for me, realizing I couldn't say it out loud again. Immediately everybody was vocally giving me support, along with a few pats on the helmet and shoulder.

"How about you sit for a few shifts, okay? You'll be all right, I'm sure he's extremely proud of you right now," Dan said with a fatherly pat on my shoulder as he slowly made his way over to the rest of the guys on the ice.

"Thanks," I managed to whisper, and felt Steve's hand on my shoulder. I managed to look over at him, and saw a small smile, so much like the one my dad always wore when I'd just lost a game or played dismally and was upset.

"Don't worry about it. You know he's here with you, no matter what," he consoled me, and I nodded, not knowing what to say without bursting out into tears or causing more awkwardness. I hated crying and feeling like this when I was locked up by myself in my room on a good day, let alone in front of my teammates.

"Sorry Staalsy," I apologized as I sat up straight, and felt him give me another quick squeeze of a hug before he let go.

"Don't worry about it. Everybody needs someone to lean on once in a while," he assured me, and while I didn't know why Jordan sat off with me on the two shifts I missed.

"We stick together, all right? Unless Coach says otherwise," he told me when I went to answer. It seemed to be the same thing with Sidney and Neal, who'd been put on the same line since Dan had moved him up from Craig's line.

"Thanks," he nodded, and when we went back out onto the ice Jordan seemed to be keeping an eye out for me, blocking a few hits, that sort of thing.

"That's what we're looking for guys; that's the kind of teamwork I wanted to see out here today!" Dan complimented us as we skated right past him. We were done for the day, and I couldn't wait to give Uncle Rob a hug and do something to keep this off of my mind.

"C'mere," before I knew what was happening Steve had wrapped me up in a huge hug, and after a moment I relaxed into it, glad for his support. He was like my dad in so many ways, I couldn't believe it.

"I don't remind you of him, do I?" he asked as he let me go, and after a moment I hesitantly nodded.

"You're a lot like him, actually," I sniffed, and his face fell a little.

"I'm so sorry, I hope this isn't hard on you because of it,"

"No, I'll be fine. It's just a bit of a shock right now, I guess. I'll be fine," I repeated, making him grin at me.

"If you're sure. He was one lucky guy you know; to have a kid like you, and I bet he watches every single practice and game; now he doesn't have to worry about the practices being closed," he gave me a small grin, and I managed one back for him.

"Yeah, he would have loved that," I nodded, and Steve gave me another quick hug.

"You ever need to talk or anything, I'm here for you, okay? I'll give you our home number, don't ever hesitate to call me or Shelly for anything. Do you have a place to stay out here?"

"Um actually I'm going looking for a place with my Uncle today, and then phoning Becka tonight and letting her know what we found," I answered, and then realized I'd mentioned my best friend. It hadn't even occurred to me that I should have kept that part to myself.

"Becka's your girlfriend?" he asked, and I shrugged.

"Kind of? We're best friends, and,"

"And thinking there's maybe something more?" Steve supplied, and while I was cursing Becka for thinking this whole 'fake girlfriend' thing was a good idea I nodded.

"Yeah, maybe. She's going to school here in Pittsburgh, she just found out she got accepted," I told him, and he gave me a huge grin.

"That's great! I'll keep an eye out for anything nice that I see, okay? You and your uncle should come over for supper tonight; Shelly's making lasagna," the sound of his voice told me it was delicious, and I seriously debated it.

"Thanks, but I don't want to intrude or invite myself,"

"You're not; I just invited you guys. Here, when we get back to the locker room we'll do this whole number switch thing, and I can call and give you guys instructions," he insisted, and I nodded.

"Thanks Steve, that'd be great," I grinned, and he smiled back at me.

"That's what I like to hear," he put his arm casually around my shoulder and we walked to the locker room, talking away. Just like dad and I used to do.


	8. Chapter 8

"So this is it? Wow," Becka gasped as she walked in; the two of us carrying as many suitcases as we could handle. I'd had to make a quick two-day trip home to pack everything up to move to Pittsburgh. Uncle Rob and my mom were both in fits, worrying about me and how I was going to get around Pittsburgh by myself, etcetera, etcetera. But we were excited as hell.

"I know! Isn't it cool?" I asked, hauling my bags into the living room and putting them down. We'd taken care of most of the furnishing stuff before I'd went home, and then Becka and I had flown down together.

"Yes! You actually do have good taste in décor, for a _boy,_" she admitted with a smirk, making me snort.

"I guess I'm just in touch with my feminine side," I rolled my eyes, and after sharing a look we busted out into laughter; side splitting, unstoppable laughter.

"Oh my God,"

"I know right?" it took a few minutes for us to get ahold of ourselves and get the rest of our stuff from my car. I loved that; my very own car. Nothing fancy or expensive; it was a 2002 black Alero, but it was mine.

"So if you're an NHL player shouldn't you drive a big-shot, hot rod sports car?" she asked, and I shrugged.

"I'm not making millions a year," I answered, and she rolled her eyes.

"So how many hundred thousands a year are you making?"

"Five hundred fifty five thousand," it had shocked even me, but then I guess I wasn't much above the baseline; the minimum you had to pay a player. But it was still freaking awesome to think that was my starting salary.

"Oh wow, they really jipped you didn't they?" she asked, sarcasm dripping off of her words.

"Oh shut up!" I said, giving her a shove. This led to wrestling and essentially a pillow fight, until there was a knock at the door.

"Hello," I answered the door, opening it to find Jordan standing there.

"Staalsy?"

"Hey! Figured I'd stop by and check out your new digs, I just," his gaze landed on Becka then, lying on the floor, both of us still out of breath from our pillow fight, and I immediately knew he had made the very sick-minded assumption of what we were doing. "Shit, sorry, I'm interrupting. I should've called; I'll come see you later," he began stuttering, trying to make an exit.

"No, it's fine! We were just having a pillow fight," Becka told him, and Jordan raised an eyebrow.

"Seriously, we were," I seconded, and warily he took another step in, enough for me to close the door.

"If you're sure…"

"We're sure,"

"So, this is your girl?" Jordan asked, and while I got embarrassed Becka nodded, reaching to shake his hand. She's obviously a better actress than I am.

"Yeah, I'm Becka Falls, you must be Jordan?" she asked, and he nodded.

"Nice to meet you; I've heard a lot about you from Cam," she told him, and I groaned on the inside. She stood beside me, and then gave me a hip-check, so I put my arm around her shoulders, feeling more awkward than I have in my entire life.

"Likewise,"

"So, you wanna sit down?" I asked. Jordan nodded, making his way towards the couch. I moved a suitcase out of the way, and then sat down across from him in the chair, until Becka gave me a look.

"What?"

"That's totally my chair; I call it," she said, completely straight-faced.

"What? That's bull! I sat in it first," I complained, and saw Jordan trying to stifle his laughter as she crossed her arms.

"Fine, fine; you win," I sighed, standing up and sitting with Jordan on the couch as she made herself comfortable.

"Smart," he approved, making Becka laugh at him.

"He's just a gentleman," she said, giving me an over-played wink. Try as I might to play along, it was awkward for me.

"So how long have you two been together?" he asked, and I looked to Becka. She seemed to have this under control.

"About four months or so, right Cam?"

"Yeah, just past four months," I nodded, and Jordan seemed to relax as we visited. It got easier to fake it, as long as we just joked around and whatever it was easy to pretend that Jordan knew Becka was my best friend and that I was really a girl. The only danger there would be letting something slip on accident.

"Well, I better let you guys finish moving in; you two should come for supper with us; we're heading out to Tailgaters," he asked, and we shared a look.

"I dunno Staalsy; we aren't old enough to be in a bar here, remember?"

"Oh come on; you're a Penguin, they aren't gonna kick you out. Besides, we'll just stay in the restaurant part if you're worried," he shrugged it off like it was no problem whatsoever.

"Well then, I guess I better get ready," Becka said, grabbing two suitcases and hauling them down the hall and out of sight, into one of the bedrooms.

"I guess we're going then," I shrugged, not knowing what else to say. Jordan laughed, and put a hand on my shoulder.

"You'll get used to it. You learn after living with a chick for a while to just go with it; they make a lot of the decisions for you,"

"Thanks for the heads up," I told him, chuckling. Even I knew that with Becka things were mostly her decision; she's a very up-front and in your face type of person, which kind of counter-acted my personality but somehow worked for us.

"Can I ask you a weird question?" Jordan asked a moment later, and I nodded.

"How the hell does someone as quiet as you date someone as… out there as her?" I started to burst out laughing, having wondered when he would come out with this. Jordan and subtlety just don't mesh.

"I don't know; us being best friends has just always worked out. We've been best friends since we can both remember, it's always worked," I told him, not knowing what else to say. Ever since we were like three it had been that way; not that we hadn't had some ups and downs in our friendship caused by Becka's outgoing, do whatever attitude and my more quiet and responsible one, but once we figured it out we knew where the boundaries were and not to push them.

"It just doesn't seem like it should work, you know?" he asked, and I nodded. On more than one occasion I'm sure we'd asked ourselves the same question, as had everybody else who knew us.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. What time were you guys gonna go?" I asked, looking towards the hall. Becka could take hours to get ready.

"Probably in about an hour and a half or so,"

"I don't know if she'll be ready by then or not," I admitted, making him laugh.

"High maintenance?"

"No, just picky. She worries about what people think," I said, and he nodded, sobering up a little.

"That's harsh. Well, how about I go back to my place, then Torrie and I will come back and pick you guys up: I'm guessing you'll get yourself lost on the way there,"

"You're probably right," I rolled my eyes, and after we laughed nodded. "Thanks by the way."

"No problem Cam. See you in a bit," he said, and after a moment he left. I grabbed my bags and wandered down the hall, not sure which bedroom Becka had taken.

"I'm in here! Help me do my hair!" she said, so I dropped my bags and walked in. Becka never had been good at straightening the back of her hair. As I sat on the floor beside her to help her I felt a pang of regret; just last month my hair had been long and pretty like hers was, and I winced to think of the short, choppy cut I now had; one that wasn't very different from Jordan's.

"You miss your long hair, don't you?" she asked, and I nodded, taking the straightener from her and going to work on her hair.

"Yeah. I just about cried when I cut it off," I told her, and she nodded.

"I still don't know how you did it. I don't think I could part with my hair, not after spending so much time growing it out,"

"I know what you mean,"

"Can I try to style it for you?" she asked a moment later. I raised an eyebrow at her, and she rolled her eyes.

"Not style it like a girl's! Spike it up or something all 'manly'," she said, before giggling.

"Okay, whatever you say," I nodded, before both of us burst into laughter again. What I wouldn't give to be letting my best friend put makeup on me and the whole girly thing I normally didn't care for, to be dressing up like a girl and going to a party or a club.

"Hey, don't be a stick in the mud, you wanted to be an NHL player," she reminded me, and I sighed.

"Yeah, but it's nice to be a girl sometimes," I allowed, and she stared at me in mock shock, eyes wide open and staring open-mouthed.

"No way; tomboy of the millennium said what?" she asked, before we started to laugh again.

So after having as close to a 'girls night' as we could without me doing any of the girly stuff, and after Becka made my hair look cool and spiked up we sat in the living room watching TV and waiting for Jordan and Torrie to show up.

"Oh! Just thought of something!" Becka announced, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the bedrooms.

"What?" I asked, and she rolled her eyes, pulling out a tenser.

"Are you serious? I think this does the trick," I said. I had a sports bra that flattened out my basically non-existent chest, but she shook her head.

"Too obvious; at least with this everybody will assume an injury and not know you have boobs," she said, rolling her eyes. Begrudgingly I agreed to it, and about ten frustrating minutes later had it wrapped around myself. I slipped the tank top back over my head before re-buttoning the nicer dress shirt I'd put on, and to be honest it did sit a little bit nicer, but wasn't as comfortable.

"See? What'd I tell you?" she said, but instead of answering I rolled my eyes when I sat down on the couch again. When the doorbell rang I jumped up to get it, Becka struggling into her high heels.

"Come here," she finally sighed, and obediently I stood beside her and let her use me for balance as she got the second shoe on. I knew how hard it was to try and get into those, I wasn't gonna refuse.

"Aw, aren't you a sweetheart; you could learn a thing or two from him Jordan," Torrie teased him, and while Jordan smiled and rolled his eyes something seemed off.

"Yeah, yeah, thanks for showing me up Bates," there it was; no Cam or Cameron, he was in full 'save face' mode, this was his media face, not the regular old Jordan.

"Sorry Staalsy; she'll kick my ass otherwise," I teased, and Becka swatted me, a tiny bit taller than me in her three and a half inch heels. Torrie was taller than me by about an inch, and then was wearing heels.

"And you let her wear heels that she's taller than you in?" she asked, obviously curious about how this worked.

"They're shoes, does it really matter? I know I'm short," I shrugged, and she seemed even more surprised.

"Jordan, you haven't even properly introduced us," she swatted his arm, trying to be flirtatious I think, but Jordan was kind of off in his own little world.

"Oh, uh, sorry. Torrie this is Cam Bates and Becka Falls. Guys this is Torrie," he said, and I nodded, and Becka gave her an Academy Award-winning smile.

"So nice to meet you! Are you from Pittsburgh?" she gushed, and soon they were gabbing away like nothing, which seemed to help Jordan out.

"So, ready to go?" he asked, and we nodded, making sure we had our keys and locked the door. In the car Becka and Torrie decided to ride in the backseat, still chatting away, while Jordan and I were fairly quiet.

"You guys okay up there?" Becka asked a few minutes later, and I nodded.

"Fine, don't worry," I shot her a smile and saw her eyes flick to Jordan for a millisecond. I manage an almost invisible shrug, and she gave me the tiniest of nods.

"Wow, you guys are like so in tune with each other!" Torrie gushed after some other minute conversation.

"We've been best friends since we were like three," she explained.

"Aww! That's so adorable!"

"Well it's true,"

"Here we are," Jordan announced as he pulled into the parking lot. We got out of the car; Torrie immediately clinging to Jordan's side. Becka gave me a look and I stuck my arm out, letting her slip her arm around mine. We walked in, and the bouncer gave me a weird look, making me feel nervous.

"Whoa, Jake; he's on the team. You're looking at my new winger," Jordan told him, sounding slick and important as he talked to the man who probably could have even taken him.

"Oh, sorry; didn't mean any trouble," he insisted, letting us in the door.

"No problem," I replied, and he looked surprised before smiling to himself. Obviously he wasn't used to having a mistake shrugged off.

"There the guys are," Jordan said, and we weaved our way between tables and people to get to them.

"Hey Staalsy! And who are you two beautiful ladies?"

"Max!" Jordan's smile turned genuine as he gave his old teammate a sort of hug.

"How you doing man? How's life on the dark side?"

"It's not too bad, not too bad. Who's this?" he asked, turning to me.

"Cam Bates; I'm the new kid," I introduced myself, getting a guffaw and what appeared to be an approval from the ex-penguin.

"The new kid? Ha! I like him already!" he declared, which got a grin from me.

"So, I know this beautiful lady is Madamoiselle Torrie, but comment appelle tu?" he asked Becka.

"Becka," she answered, slipping her arm around mine again, as if she felt uncomfortable by Max's attempt at charms.

"You are the new kid's lady?" he asked, his accent butchering his words ever so slightly.

"Yessir," she replied with a grin at me, which I attempted to return.

"Aww, they are cute? No?" Marc asked, and I rolled my eyes as we sat down. We ordered our drinks and Becka and I let the conversation flow around us for the most part.


	9. Chapter 9

"Hello? Earth to Bates?" I jumped slightly as I realized I'd been completely zoned out.

"Huh? What?" everybody at the table was laughing, adding to my embarrassment.

"We were just wondering what you wanted to eat," Becka said, pointing to the waitress who was also trying not to laugh at me.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry, uh… do you remember what I wanted to order?" I asked her, not having a clue.

"He'll have the chicken fettuccini alfredo with an extra slice of garlic toast," she said, and after the waitress left I did remember having wanted that.

"Thank you," she shrugged it off, going back to talking with Torrie.

"Wow, are you always this spacey?" Jordan asked.

"No, I don't know what was wrong with me there," I shook my head, getting a few more laughs.

"Who knows, one of those days?" Sid suggested, and I nodded.

"I guess so, yeah," I grinned, and this time made a point of joining in the conversation until our food came. I'd never been one to talk around my food, so I stayed quiet, much to the surprise of Torrie and Marc's girlfriend Amy.

"Becka, where on earth did you find him?" Amy asked, and I raised an eyebrow at her, having just put more food in my mouth and not wanting to talk.

"Huh?"

"Look at him, and look at the rest of them," she said, and even I noticed the way the guys shoveled their food and talked while doing so. I wasn't eating as politely as Becka, Torrie and Amy were, but my eating style was a lot closer to theirs than my teammates.

"Just lucky I guess," she grinned, and I felt my cheeks turn red as I pushed some noodles around my plate with my fork.

"Damn, if you were single, I was younger and didn't have Marc," she shook her head, laughing with everybody else as I choked on a mouthful of water.

"Poor kid! Amy look what you did to him," Jordan complained, reaching over and thumping me on the back, which I'll admit did help.

"Sorry Cam," she apologized.

"No, no, it's fine," I coughed out, and then took a careful sip of my water.

"You do know I was just teasing you, right Cam?" Amy asked a moment later, sounding a little concerned.

"Of course Amy, don't worry about it. Just caught me off guard is all," I assured her, and she nodded, finally going back to eating her food. After we'd all finished eating everybody except Becka and I asked for a drink; the guys all having beer while Torrie and Amy opted for wine instead.

"Come on Cam; a beer isn't gonna hurt," Jordan pushed, and I raised an eyebrow at him.

"It'll be fine Cam; these guys have all been drinking in here since they were drafted," Amy seconded, and finally I relented, letting Jordan order me a beer.

"Plus Cam, it's American beer; it's lighter than the stuff back home," Becka reminded me, and I chuckled. I've never been a beer drinker.

"Why? Worried about being a lightweight Bates?" Max asked jokingly, but his words had a slightly cutting undertone to them.

"Nah, more worried about my mom catching wind of something online and phoning me to give me shit," I sheepishly admitted, getting laughs out of everyone at the table.

"You're a good kid, but nobody will rat you out here, don't worry," Sid grinned, and if even Sid was okay with it I figured I wouldn't get in any trouble.

"So Max, gonna come to the rink with us tomorrow?" Sid asked a moment later, and Max just shrugged.

"C'est possible; who is gonna be there?" Max asked in reply.

"Uh, me, Staalsy, Tanger, Marc, Brent, Neal, Matt, Brooks, and Cam are you coming?" he asked.

"Uh sure; I'm not doing anything," I nodded, and Sid gave me a nod of approval.

"And Cam, so you in?"

"Maybe for a little while, yes," Max said, and somehow I got the feeling that he didn't like me very much; after the initial meeting where he'd seemed to approve he'd kind of avoided talking to me and now his playful and joking comments were getting a little harsh when they were directed at me.

"This will be fun," Sid seemed genuinely excited; Max had been one of his closest friends on the team last year, and according to what the guys said he'd taken Max's move to Philly pretty hard.

"I'll come pick you up on my way there; your place is on the way and then you can learn where it is," Jordan offered.

"Thanks," I was grateful; I couldn't imagine the fun I would have getting lost in Pittsburgh; it's too big.

"Becka, what are you doing tomorrow?" Amy asked, and she shrugged.

"I'll probably just finish moving everything in and getting settled, nothing too big," she answered.

"You should come over! We're gonna have everybody who's out at the rink over for dinner; you can come and spend the day and we can go shopping or just hang out or whatever, if you want to," Amy suggested, and Becka nodded enthusiastically.

"That sounds like a lot of fun; thank you!"

"I'll be right back," I said, excusing myself from the table. I had to go use the washroom, and while I still found it weird walking into the men's room I just made sure to watch the ground as I walked. As per usual there wasn't anybody in there, something I seemed to have a knack for, my timing was great for avoiding anything awkward in a bathroom.

"Seriously? They didn't wanna resign me for _him?_" I stopped in my tracks as I heard Max speak.

"You should see this kid play Max! He's amazing," Jordan insisted.

"Still, I've been here six fucking years and they don't want to re-sign me so they can sign some pipsqueak who's gonna get crushed in his first game? I'm sure he's a nice kid but fuck," he continued, sounding angry. Had they opted against resigning Max to look for a new younger player? But they hadn't known I was even going to try out until a few weeks ago; he'd signed with Philly long before that.

"Max, seriously; no one even knew this kid was trying out until a week or so before Wilkes-Barre's tryouts; they didn't choose him over you," Sid quietly argued, not wanting to stir things up but trying to defend me.

"Whatever. Where's he playing?"

"He's playing wing for me," Jordan answered, and I gulped.

"So what, is he like that Jeff Skinner kid? First year in and playing with the big shots? Kid can't afford a big ego," he sneered.

"Can you just drop it Max? It's not his fault you're playing for Philly now, so why be mean to him? Jordan asked, and I figured it was time to walk back to the table before they really started to argue.

"Hey, sorry about that," I said as I approached the table. As I expected all conversation died immediately, and then I realized Torrie and Becka weren't there, and Amy was looking like she wished she wasn't.

"They ran to the bathroom," Sid explained. I nodded, sitting down and taking a sip of my beer. There was awkward silence for a while, until Becka and Torrie returned.

"Well, I think we're gonna head home," Jordan announced a few minutes later, even though Torrie looked less than pleased with his decision.

"Well then we're heading out too; Jordan and Torrie gave us a ride here. Nice to meet you Amy, Max," I said, shaking both of their hands and making a point to smile at Max as nicely as I could.

"You too. See you tomorrow," he nodded, and after saying goodbye to Sidney and Marc we left.

"Jordy, are you okay?" Torrie asked a minute later, when we were walking over to his Cadillac.

"Yeah. I'm fine," was his gruff response, taking Torrie by surprise and letting me know he was seriously not okay. I figured I'd try to ease it out of him; he'd probably feel better after getting it off his chest.

"Max doesn't like me, does he?" I asked, and Jordan stopped short, waiting a moment to turn around and face me, obviously trying to form an answer.

"No, that's not true,"

"Come on, every time I turned around he was taking a little jab at me. What'd I ever do to him?" I pushed, and he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"He thinks he didn't get re-signed with the Pens because of you," he said, and I tried to look surprised even though I knew this. "Even though he signed with Philly long before you were in the picture. It's really stupid, and he shouldn't be taking his disappointment out on you."

"Oh, o-okay," I said, acting just as I had when I'd taken Neal's spot on Jordan's line. When that had happened I had felt guilty and sad, but I had no sympathy for Max; I mean, yeah it sucked, a lot, but the Pittsburgh Penguins had never heard of me, so how could I have taken his place? I'm playing wing for god's sake!

"Don't let it bother you Cam; he's just spouting off because he's upset, you didn't do anything wrong," Jordan quickly cut in, and I nodded after a moment.

"Okay, if you say so,"

"No, I know so. He'll get over it, maybe not for a while but he will get over it. Don't worry; I'll watch your back when we play Philly just in case he tries to be tough or something equally as stupid and take it out on you,"

"Thanks Jordan," I forced a small grin for him, and he gave me a pat on the back before moving to get in the car.

"What took you guys so long?" Torrie asked from the backseat, although it was evident that her and Becka had been preoccupied talking and it hadn't really mattered.

"Just had to talk about something; no biggie," Jordan told her, and she nodded. Becka gave me a questioning look, and I nodded.

"No biggie; I promise," I said, and after a few more moments of her intense stare she seemed to believe me.

"Did you guys wanna come in for a bit?" I offered when Jordan pulled into the parking space beside my Alero.

"No, I think we better head home. Some other time we'll take you up on it," he said with a grin.

"All right; have a good night guys, see you tomorrow," I waved, heading upstairs with Becka and into our apartment.

"So what's up?"

"Max doesn't like me because he thinks I'm the reason he didn't get to re-sign with Pittsburgh," I sighed, and she laughed.

"Wow, that's shallow of him! He signed with Philly long before the Penguins even knew you existed. He can go shove it up his ass," she snorted, pulling off her high heels.

"Yeah, which is great until we have to play them and he has a vendetta out against me," I acknowledged, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Jordan will have your back though, right?"

"Of course; it's Jordan," I grinned.

"Well then Max would be an idiot to make you a marked man; Jordan could kick his ass any day of the week," she decided and I couldn't help but laugh.

"True, true. Well, I don't know about you, but I'm wiped,"

"Yeah, same here. See you in the morning!" she said, heading into her room and shutting the door. Once I was in my bedroom and had changed I all but collapsed onto the bed; asleep before my head even hit the pillow.


	10. Chapter 10

_Jordan's P.O.V_

"Are you sure you're okay Jordy? I mean, you seemed tense all night," Torrie asked, hanging off of my arm again as I sat at my desk trying to get some shit organized on my computer. I needed to email Marc, reply to Eric's message and see how Jay was doing at try-outs; he'd made it past the last few rounds of cuts for the Hurricanes, and we were all hoping this year would be the year he cracked the NHL for at least a few games. But instead Torrie was pulling at my arm and leaning over my shoulder and nattering away at me. She couldn't seem to leave me alone for two minutes anymore; it was almost like I was suffocating.

"Look, Torrie, I'm fine, okay? Relax,"

"Jordan just tell me what's wrong,"

"Look, nothing is wrong! I was just a little mad at Max for how he was treating Cam tonight, that's all. Nothing more, nothing less, and when we were heading to the vehicle Cam said he thought Max didn't like him, so we talked for a minute. End of story. Can I go to sleep now?" I asked, standing up abruptly and heading towards our bedroom, considering sleeping on the couch.

"Well obviously it's not nothing because you're acting like this!" she followed me, obviously determined to 'get to the bottom' of my problem.

"I'm acting like this because I'm tired, I've been in a bad mood and you won't leave it alone Torrie. Can I please just go to sleep? We can talk in the morning if you're that concerned," I sighed, pulling my shirt over my head and stepping out of my jeans before sliding under the covers on my side of the bed.

"Fine. We'll talk in the morning then," she huffed, and I sighed as I realized that now I'd pissed her off by not wanting to spill my guts to her about this. It wasn't a big deal, and that was that.

"Torrie don't be mad, I just don't wanna talk about it right now," I started, but when she rolled onto her side to stare at the wall I gave up, not wanting to get into another argument right now. Mom had warned me that asking her to move out to Pittsburgh wasn't going to work, but I'd ignored her. Now I wished I'd listened to my mom, and my dad, and my brothers who had all agreed with her. Eric said Tanya couldn't stand her, which was saying a lot as Tanya can get along with basically anyone; and Marc said that she'd been downright awful to Lindsay, which had shocked me. Lindsay was one of the sweetest people I knew, and she'd never do anything to hurt anyone unless she was defending her family or her friends. But I'd been stupid and ignored all of them; I had been sure that Torrie was the one for me. And now look at the mess I'm in.

"Good night," I said, speaking to the room and hoping for a reply from her.

"Night," was her blunt answer, and while it wasn't much, it was better than silence, so I closed my eyes and tried to go to sleep.

At about one o'clock we headed out to go to the rink, stopping to pick up Cam and Becka.

"Hey, how's it going?" Cam asked as he got into the front seat; having shoved his skates and some equipment into the back along with mine.

"Pretty good; you?" he shrugged, before yawning.

"I've only been up for a couple of hours; I'll have to get back to you on that one," he answered with a lopsided grin. It had been a long, awkward and silent morning at our house; Torrie was upset with me now for 'shutting her out' and therefore didn't want to talk to me. I had no doubts that as soon as they were heading to Marc and Amy's Becka would get the full earful about how much of an asshole I am.

"Sounds like a good morning," I smiled, and only a few minutes later pulled up at the outside rink we'd decided to meet and play at. Sid and Tanger were already there and skating around, and Max was just walking towards the ice, I assume having just put skates on.

"I'll wait with you until Amy and Marc get here," Cam told his girlfriend, who shook her head.

"That's okay Cam; Torrie and I can sit together, you don't have to do that,"

"Well it's not like it's a problem," he argued, and I couldn't help but chuckle to myself. They were quite the odd match; but Cam seemed like the kind of guy that only existed in movies and on TV shows; he was so polite and almost old-fashioned, nothing like any guy I'd ever met, but Eric was pretty close. They'd get along great.

"No; go skate and have fun; we'll be fine! Besides, we have lots to talk about," she insisted, and after a moment he gave in. As we got up to go onto the ice they hugged for a second, and she whispered something in his ear. He nodded, and pressed his cheek to hers for a moment before walking over to me, grabbing his hockey stick and walking with me to the ice.

"You and Torrie ok?" he asked, and I shrugged.

"She's just upset with me this morning; we'll fix it," I answered, not wanting to get into it. Torrie was so concerned with making sure the entire world knew she was my girlfriend we couldn't go anywhere without her announcing it or trying to make out with me in public. When we'd first started dating I'd been flattered; I mean, what kind of kid doesn't want his girlfriend to be all over him and flaunting him and talking him up? But two and a half years later I realize it's partially because she wants everybody to notice her and be jealous, and partly because she's insecure about it; she knows as damn well as I do that things aren't really working.

"Okay. Becka was just wondering because she thought Torrie seemed off this morning," he explained his question, and I found it strange that his girlfriend could have Torrie figured out so quickly. Then again they had talked a lot yesterday and Torrie wasn't the kind to keep a whole lot to herself.

"Yeah, she's a little upset with me," I finally admitted.

"Girls are complicated sometimes," he said, and I nodded.

"I hear you,"

"Well, I don't know about you, but skating like a mad-man and working up a sweat always helps me clear my head," Cam suggested, and I nodded. It was like we were the same person split into two; while our tastes were different we seemed to just click; it was as if he was one of my brothers. Granted, a much shorter and darker version of us, but I felt like we'd known each other forever.

"Yeah, same here," I nodded, and we went into a lap of the rink, before Cam sped up to do a lap at full speed; it was his thing to do in warm up. At first some of the guys thought he was just trying to show off, but he just purely loves to skate, and to skate fast. He's also positive it warms up his muscles faster than just lolling around and then getting a cramp when he goes to do a drill.

"Hey, ready to go there Speed?" Sidney asked, laughing at our teammate.

"Speed… nah, doesn't fit him Sid," I disagreed, shaking my head. We weren't as good as Army was at finding guys' nicknames, but we tried.

"Well, we'll keep working on it," he promised, and Cam just shrugged.

"Take your time; I'm in no rush," he said, before promptly stealing the puck from Sid and firing a nice shot into the top right corner of the net. That was something we didn't see everyday; Sid has amazing puck-handling, and usually nobody else can manage to get the puck away, but Cam did like it was no problem.

"Whoa, you wanna try that again?" Tanger asked, and Cam looked at him quizzically.

"Do what? I just took a shot and it went in. Did I really miss that many in practice?" he asked, making a joke out of it.

"I don't think I've ever seen someone pick the puck from Sid," Tanger told him, and Cam just raised an eyebrow.

"Well then Sid you must not have been paying enough attention," That was another thing I couldn't figure out about Cam; he never talked himself up, he always shrugged off his accomplishments like it had happened thanks to luck or coincidence or it was always the teammate who'd set him up that deserved the praise.

"Dude, I was looking right at you,"

"Oh, well then I must've got pretty lucky," there the easy grin and off-hand comment was, and the next thing we knew he was skating to retrieve the puck.

"Wow, that kid's good," Sid said, almost under his breath.

"Yeah, and shit am I ever glad he's playing on my line," I chuckled, watching him do some fancy dekes before slipping a backhander into the net.

"All right show off; I'm here, we ready to play?" Marc asked as he walked over to the bench to put on some goalie equipment. Cam saw him and grinned, shrugging.

"I don't know, you think you can handle that shot?" this was the closest to cocky we'd ever seen him, and knew it was fake a moment later when he started to bust a gut laughing at the look on Marc's face.

"I was starting to wonder if Max hadn't taken over your brain! I have never heard you talk like that," Marc said, and Cam just shrugged, while Max looked less than pleased.

"All right, all right, how are we picking teams?" Brooks asked, and I shrugged.

"Doesn't matter to me," seemed to be the general consensus, so we decided to vote on captains and then flip a coin to see who got to pick first. After the voting was said and done, and after we talked Cam into being a captain, it was Cam and Sidney picking teams.

"Max," we all knew he'd be Sid's first pick, for old times' sake.

"Staalsy," Cam grinned, and I tapped his shin with my stick, glad to have my winger on my team.

"Neal," Now Sidney was picking for strategy too.

"Uh… Tanger," Cam decided, and I nodded my head.

"Brooks,"

"Marc," damn this kid was smart too.

"Brent," Sidney said, and Matt shrugged, skating over to us.

"Ouch, thanks for picking me last," he teased, and Cam shrugged.

"Sorry Matt, next time I'll pick you first," he promised, making the tall defense man laugh.

"That's after he picks me, you know; we're like a package deal now," I smirked, and Marc started to laugh.

"Aww aren't they cute?" I swung at him playfully, and we wrestled for a moment while everyone laughed.

"Okay, ready to start?" Sid asked, and we lined up; me taking the face off.


	11. Chapter 11

It only took a few minutes for it to be obvious that Max was making a point of going after Cam, except Cam seemed to be the only one who didn't see it. The hip-checks, the little elbow jabs, the nearly tripping him and doing anything to steal the puck or otherwise keep Cam from doing anything.

"Dude, back off; we don't have equipment or anything, remember? You're gonna hurt him," I cautioned, and Max just shrugged.

"Better toughen him up if a little bump like that's gonna hurt him," was his reply, making me angry.

"Look," I said, my voice getting quieter and deeper as I approached him, not wanting everyone else to hear. "You can be mad at him all you want, but he had nothing to do with your contract, got it? And if you bugger up my winger I'll mess you up, you understand? He's got bad knees and I don't want anything to happen to him, he's like my little brother," if that didn't scare the shit out of Max I didn't know what would. Anybody who knew any of us Staal brothers knew that if you messed with one, you messed with all four of us. And needless to say, you lost when you messed with the four of us.

"Sure, sure," he shrugged me off and skated away, leaving me angry enough that I wanted to follow him and punch him in the face. That was just unsportsmanlike, and I couldn't believe Max was acting like this; it seemed just so out of character for the fun-loving guy we all knew.

"Talbot! I was talking to you!" I hollered, but he refused to turn and look at me or even acknowledge that I'd said something.

"Gronk, you okay?" Tanger asked, and I shook my head.

"He's got it out for Cam, and he's not gonna stop," I told my friend, who shook his head.

"Stupid; it's not like Cam did anything wrong. Shit, if anything Neal's the only one who has a reason to be angry with him,"

"Yeah, and Cam feels awful about that. But Max had already signed long before Ray and Dan even knew who he was, so what the fuck?" Tanger shrugged, not knowing what to tell me. Who knew what was going through Max's head right now.

"I know, and I don't like it either. I guess all we can do is keep an eye out for him, and make sure Max doesn't do anything stupid," he sighed, skating over to everyone else. I followed, not knowing what else to do right now.

We continued to play, Max's behavior getting worse as we went. Cam pushed the puck up to Matt before Max checked him into the sideboards, the second time in about ten minutes, but this time Cam hit the boards and the ice hard.

"Cool it Max! We aren't wearing any equipment!" Brooks called, as if a guy could just forget that.

"What? So it's okay for Jordy to give me a bump into the boards?" he asked, daring us to contradict him.

"What's with you today?" Sid asked, sounding as frustrated as I was, as Matt skated over to Cam to give him a hand.

"No, it's okay; I'm fine," Cam weakly insisted, and Matt left the puck to skate over and help him up.

"I'm fine," he hissed as Matt put an arm around him to help him. I knew from the way his teeth were gritted and his hand on his side that he was hurt. Fuck, all we needed was the kid to get hurt before the season started.

"Whatever," Max rolled his eyes, skating away from me.

"Talbot! I was talking to you!" I hollered, but he kept skating as if he couldn't hear me. I looked over to the bench beside the rink, and saw Cam sitting there, obviously in pain.

"What is his problem?" Neal asked, skating up to me. I shook my head, watching Max carefully in case he tried anything stupid.

"He's all made at Cam because he didn't get re-signed; he's blaming Cam for it," I shook my head, unable to comprehend Max's rationale. If the Penguins didn't know who Cam Bates was at the beginning of summer how could Cam have replaced him or stole his spot?

"'He is being an idiot, isn't he?" Neal asked, shooting our teammate a glance before his eyes narrowed slightly at the guy we all used to look up to.

"Yeah," I nodded, not trusting myself to say much more.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I am 'ungry; want to go back to my place?" Marc asked, obviously done playing as he pulled his goalie mask off.

"Yeah, I could definitely eat," Sid agreed, and when Brent made his way over from his net, taking off some equipment as he went we all knew the game was over. I skated over to Cam, who was still breathing hard where he was sitting on the bench. Matt was sitting beside him, unsure as to what he should do.

"Want me to take a look at your ribs?" I asked, reaching for the edge of his jacket. He flinched away from me, and I was confused. Did it hurt bad enough that the tug of the material caused him pain?"

"N-no, that's okay. They're fine," he choked out, and I raised an eyebrow.

"You don't sound fine Cam," I told him, and still he refused to look at me.

"Cam don't ignore it or you'll get hurt worse; let Gronk check it out," Sid agreed, but Cam just violently shook his head.

"I… I'll have Becka check it out, I promise," he blurted out a moment later, and I nodded, satisfied with that.

"Okay. I think we're heading back to Marc's place now," I informed him, untying his skates like I always used to do for Jared as a kid.

"It's fine Jordan; I can do it," he insisted, but let out a sound of pain as he reached for his skate. I put a hand on his shoulder and slowly pushed him back until he was sitting straight.

"Just let me do it; I don't want my winger out for the start of the season," I told him, trying to turn it into a joke. The corner of his lip lifted, and I got the feeling that was as much of a smile as I was going to manage.

"What the… kid can't even—" I shot Max a death glare, glad that Brooks had cuffed him upside the back of the head and cut off yet another jab at our new teammate.

"Jordan you're over-reacting, I'm fine," he insisted, but I gave him a look that said no arguing, and he shut his mouth. I finished untying his skates and pulled them off of his feet before moving his boots to where he could put his feet in them.

"Thanks," his voice was hardly more than a whisper, and I knew he must loathe feeling like he couldn't do things for himself. Sid was the same way, but the difference was Sid could accept help when he really needed it; the concussion was helping him a lot with that, realizing he wasn't Iron Man and that it was okay to ask for help. Cam obviously hadn't come to that realization yet.

"Anytime Cam," I said, patting his knee once as I stood up. I took my skates off as quickly as was possible before picking up both mine and Cam's equipment to put in my car.

"Here," I looked back to see Neal giving Cam a hand; it looked like even walking was hurting his side. Just great, now the lines would get screwed around and Cam would lose the experience of pre-season games, and then go into a real game and be nervous as fuck.

"Thanks Neal," just as I had Neal shrugged off his help to our new teammate.

"We're teammates; it's what we do," I nodded as I got into my vehicle and started the engine. Cam was silent beside me, and I wondered whether he wanted to be left alone or if I should talk to him.

"He really, really hates me, doesn't he?" Cam quietly asked a moment later. I sighed, not knowing what to tell him. I don't think Max hated him, but was bitter and blamed him for what happened.

"I don't think 'hate' is the right word Cam," I started, and he let out a ragged laugh that turned into a groan of pain. "But he's bitter as shit and blames you. So he's not your biggest fan."

"Well I could see that, but to be fucking shoving me around out there? We were supposed to be playing for fun," he growled, and I could understand why he was upset. We only had another two weeks until our pre-season started, and if Max did any damage Cam wouldn't be seeing any ice time.

"Yeah, I know. I'm pissed as hell at him," I said, and left the conversation there as Cam stared out the window the entire way to Marc's house. Hopefully Max wouldn't pull anymore stunts; I knew Eric and Marc's pre-season didn't start for five more days; more than enough time to come to Pennsylvania so we could lay a beating on his ass.


	12. Chapter 12

Back at Marc's Becka immediately knew something was wrong with Cam. He had hardly walked in the door; Brent was helping him get out of his jacket, and as soon as her eyes landed on him they narrowed in suspicion before widening in shock.

"Oh my God, you're hurt!" she exclaimed, rushing over while Cam tried to downplay it again.

"Becka, I'm fine… Becka, ouch!" all she had done was put her hand on his side, and immediately he was in pain.

"You are not fine! What the hell happened to you?" she asked, and Cam looked at his feet, not wanting to say what had taken place in front of the idiot who'd hit him.

"Nothing, look, can we talk about this at home?" he mumbled, but it was obvious who was in charge right now, and Cam wasn't it.

"Cam, this isn't gonna just wait until we go home, unless Jordan's planning on driving us as soon as I get my coat on," she said, looking to me. I held my hands up in surrender; not wanting to get on Cam's bad side by not taking his side but at the same time not wanting him to suffer because of his own stubbornness.

"Do you want me to take a look at it Cam?" Amy asked, but he shook his head as before.

"Here, I'll take a look at it. Where's the bathroom again?" Becka took his hand gingerly, and Cam slowly followed along behind her, wincing with every step.

"What. The. Hell. Happened?" Amy demanded, her usually joyful voice deadly as she directed her gaze to each of us in turn, knowing one of us would crack. And as per usual Marc and Sidney were the first ones to crack.

"Max hit him into the boards," they both mumbled, and she looked shocked before rounding on Max, who was unfazed by all of this.

"You what?"

"So I gave him a little push, no big deal," he shrugged, and at least had the grace to look startled when she was in his face and had him by the collar of his shirt.

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING? YOU SERIOUSLY HURT HIM! ARE YOU THAT MUCH OF AN IDIOT TO LAY CONTACT ON SOMEBODY WITHOUT ANY EQUIPMENT ON? HE WASN'T EVEN WEARING A HELMET, WAS HE?" she demanded, and I felt a little satisfaction as Max floundered for an answer from her.

"Amy," Marc put a hand on her shoulder, as if to tell her to control herself a little but she shrugged him off and turned on Marc, temporarily letting Max off the hook.

"No! He's pulled bullheaded shit before, and I'm sick of this! Sick of seeing you guys get hurt screwing around doing something you know you shouldn't have, and then hearing you all complain about the team suffering because of it! Did nobody teach you all how to behave when you were kids?" Marc just looked at his feet, not wanting to make Amy angry or argue with her.

"I think I'll just head out; I'm obviously not wanted here," Max said a moment later, and while I knew Sid would be a little disappointed it would be short lived. He cared about the team, it was his life, and if Max had changed that much over the course of the summer Sid would soon leave that part of his life behind him; he was good at moving on.

"You can apologize to Cameron first," Amy informed him, and he hung his head, standing there as we all waited for Cam and Becka to come back. It occurred to me then that Torrie hadn't come out with the girls to see us, something out of the ordinary for her.

"She's sleeping; she wasn't feeling good," Amy told me as soon as I opened my mouth to ask the question. I nodded then, knowing how Torrie got when she was upset.

After what seemed like forever Becka and Cam made their way back over to us, and Cam must have taken some Advil or something because he wasn't looking as peaky as before.

"They're not broken or anything, but they're bruised; Cam won't be playing any contact for a few weeks," Becka informed us, while Cam stayed quiet. I knew he'd be devastated and angry about that.

"Cam, I'm sorry; I was out of line," Max said, and Cam nodded, not looking up at him. If that was me I'd be staring at my feet to keep from lunging at him and punching him right square in the nose.

"It's okay; shit happens, right?" He asked a moment later, an attempt of a smile on his face, although it was a poor one. Max reached out his hand for Cam to shake, and we all saw the hesitation before Cam did so.

"I'm heading out. See you around," and with that Max left.

"Stupid ass, giving checks when you're playing without equipment," Amy was still muttering to herself as she herded us into the living room, coming up with a hot pack for Cam's side.

"Shit that feels good," he sighed as he placed it on his ribs. I sat down beside him, and then scooted over to let Becka put herself between us. I understood; she was a little shaken up about this, that she'd want to be near him to help if he needed it.

"So, ma belle cher, is there anything we can eat?" Marc asked, putting his arms around Amy, who just laughed.

"Trust you guys to be hungry already," she rolled her eyes, getting up to go to the kitchen.

Becka went to offer to help, but then shot Cam another look. His eyes were closed and he looked like he was going to go right to sleep.

"He'll be okay; I'll keep an eye on him," I promised, and after putting her hand on my arm in a quick thank you got up to help Amy. We were all quiet, not knowing what to say after our fun day had turned so awful.

"Mario Kart?" Tanger suggested, and after a moment of silence we all burst out laughing. Cam started, looked around for a moment before shifting in an attempt to make himself more comfortable.

"You'll probably feel better if you lay down," Sid told him, and he shrugged.

"That's okay, I'll do that when I get home,"

"No, just stretch out; put your feet over me, it'll be fine," I said, and after a moment and some awkward and painful movements he was laying on the couch, and looking a hell of a lot more comfortable than he had before. His eyes closed again, and before Marc had the Wii set up Cam was fast asleep.

"Shit, I feel awful; if I hadn't invited Max he wouldn't be hurt," Sid sighed a moment later. It wasn't his fault; he didn't know Max was going to act like such an asshole to Cam, there's nothing he could have done about it.

"Sid it's not your fault, how could you have known?" Kris asked, and Neal nodded.

"Yeah, it's not like we knew he was gonna go all ape-shit on him," he seconded, and still Sid shrugged. It was going to take a while for him to get over what happened to Cam. Knowing Sid he'd blame himself for it until at least a few weeks after Cam was healed up and good to go.

"So if his ribs are bruised, how long is he out for?" I asked.

"Probably about the two weeks or so," Brooks answered, and I sighed. Just as I thought; he'd miss preseason and be under a shitload of pressure at the start of the season.

"So there goes his preseason?" Marc asked, and Brooks nodded.

"That sucks ass," Matt piped up, and we all had to chuckle. Being eloquent is not one of his strong points, but it sure made for good entertainment sometimes.

"Yeah, it does," I agreed, and was content to watch Sid, Marc, Neal and Matt race each other in Mario Kart; I didn't really feel like playing right now.

"Here's some snack food for you guys; it's all I could manage so you'll have to wait until supper or go to the convenience store and get something else," she told us, putting a tray with bowls of chips, pretzels, and trail mix down while Becka put down a plate covered in cinnamon buns; the icing all but dripping off of them. I felt my mouth watering, but knew that if I had so much as half of one I'd have to do a good hundred and fifty crunches plus do some sprints.

"Oh stop drooling and eat one Gronk; we aren't gonna tell," Amy rolled her eyes, pushing the plate towards me. The guys all smirked, knowing I was a sucker for anything homemade, but especially baked goods.

"I shouldn't," I refused and felt bad when Cam shifted; probably from me moving and talking.

"Something smells good," he said, and after a moment cracked an eye open.

"Cinnamon buns?" he asked, and Amy nodded, offering the plate to him.

"Yum," he said, taking one without a second thought. I stared at him, wishing I could just do the same. Even three years ago it wouldn't have fazed me, but at twenty three, while I'm by no means old, I'm a lot more careful about what kind of food I put into my body. The last time I was home and pigged out on mom's baking Marc, Eric, Jared and I all worked out together and I spent an hour puking and dry heaving. Needless to say I don't want a repeat performance.

"Amy these are delicious!" Cam said, eyes shut as he enjoyed the treat. I looked at the plate again, hearing my stomach grumble at just the thought of the icing and sugar and the soft dough.

"Oh fuck," I sighed, taking the smallest one on the plate and pulling a piece off to eat. It almost melted in my mouth, and I savored every second of it.

"Shit that's good,"

"Now if you're so concerned I'll make sure you don't have two," she rolled her eyes at me, and then giggled when Becka seemed confused.

"I swear, hockey players have more dietary issues and are pickier than super models," she told her, and moments later Becka was bursting a gut laughing.

"It's true,"

"We don't have _dietary issues_, we're trying to be healthy!" Sid objected, and even Cam smirked a little.

"Just you wait Cam; once you hit twenty two it all changes," I warned him, popping another piece of the cinnamon bun into my mouth. "Suddenly eating this stuff messes with your gut,"

"See? _Dietary issues,_" Amy insisted, and I rolled my eyes.

"Shut up Amy,"

"Oi! You don't speak to her like that!" Marc said, throwing a pretzel at me and catching me in the side of the face.

"Sorry,"


End file.
